“Have them. They’re yours,” he said. I smiled. “You’re giving me your hands?” “My hands, my voice. My back to do your heavy lifting, my arms to carry you to bed when you’ve had too much tequila. My money, my time, my heart. It’s all yours, Sloan.” I could feel the love in his words. It was so earnest, it made my heart ache so much, tears pricked my eyes.
