I can handle my own.” “I don’t doubt that,” he says. “Then why are you trying to shield me?” “Because it’s in my nature,” he says, placing his hands on his hips. “It’s just in me to care.” I nod in understanding. “Well, consider me shielded . . . by myself.” I squeeze out the washcloth with one hand and try to soap it up, but find it difficult, so I just say fuck it in my head, uncover my breasts, and start soaping up. When I glance up at him, he’s staring anywhere but at me. “I want to say I’ll try . . .” Our gazes connect. “But once I consider you a part of my life, there’s no way for me to
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