“What are we doing?” he asked quietly. I scowled. Like I had any clue. Plus, thinking about us together only brought on guilt. “Okay.” He said it like I’d given him an answer. “What do you want this to be?” What I wanted wasn’t possible. Greg would always be Preston’s father and twenty years older than I was. “I don’t know how to answer that.” “What we just did . . . you want to do it again?” My pulse jumped. It was scary to confess, but I wasn’t going to lie. “Yeah.” He tensed his shoulders, and visibly struggled to get his words out. “Me too,” he admitted softly. “Which means we have to tell
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