A deep sigh from the couch draws me out of my head. “I can tell you’re awake,” Huck grumbles, “and it’s keeping me awake. Go to sleep, Taylor.” With a hum, I draw my blanket tighter around me. “How can you tell?” He’s silent for a moment. “Your thoughts are basically screaming.” “What are they saying?” I whisper, stomach quivering. For a moment, I don’t think he hears me. “I don’t know what they’re saying,” he mutters, blankets rustling. “I never know what’s going on inside your head.” Yeah, Old Taylor was a mess at explaining his feelings. But slightly jaded, sober Taylor, who’s been in
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