“Wait, Thatcher,” I say before he grabs more clothes out of my hold. His hard gaze fixes on me. “I grew up with one drawer, then I lived out of a fucking rucksack. I don’t even have enough shit for 15% of that closet.” My eyes widen. “Stop decreasing your percentage.” His lips almost lift. “Jane—” “The fact that you’ve lived out of a single drawer, then a bag for most of your life is precisely why you deserve the whole closet. At least let me give you 50%.”
