“I think I have been, actually,” I tell her. “Better. What did you call it? Using my evil for good? I’m trying, baby. I swear. And I keep thinking I’ll come home and tell you all about it. But somehow, every night, when I get back here and see your face… it’s not enough.” Another breath sloughs out of me, and I slump forward. “Why is it so much easier to talk to you when you’re asleep? This is bullshit.” Her lips twitch. Just the smallest bit—but the bare hint of a smile sends my stomach sinking and soaring. Has she been awake this whole time? I see the answer before she opens her big blue
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