A tear ran down my cheek, and my throat tried to close around the words before they could escape. “I can’t be with you and only get half of you anymore.” Something conflicted flared in his eyes. I turned to leave, but his words stopped me. “Try and leave me, Gianna.” It was a threat, but there was something else—something rough and untamed—behind it. Something close to panic. My gaze met his. One last parting look, and then I walked out the door. Once I was in the hall, my pulse jumped at the sound of a glass breaking. I imagined my orange juice pooling on his kitchen floor right next to where
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