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I turn on my heel to run, but he’s quicker than me. His arms wrap around my waist, and he pulls me to his chest before I can take off. A large hand forces me to look up at him, and I try to keep my eyes open and focused, despite the heavy drops of rain clouding my vision. “Why the hell are you out here in the rain, alone?” Hardin scolds through the noise of the storm.
“I’m truly sorry that I ruined you,” I whisper into her hair as her breathing begins to show signs of sleep. “Me, too,” she breathes, and regret fills in the little spaces between us as she drifts off.
He wants to remind her that whatever their souls are made of, his and hers are the same. Their favorite novel said it best.
books are forever tied to my soul—but
AFTER EVERYTHING, we made it. Whatever the hell our souls are made of, they are the same.
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