“If I do make it to you,” he continued, his hand brushing through my hair, his voice devastatingly casual as if what he said was only obvious. “You also need to know, I’m happy to die for you. If that’s what you need somewhere deep inside, to know that at least someone in your life loves you better than anyone else, that they would sacrifice themselves without fucking blinking if there was even a one percent greater chance of you surviving, then I can give that to you. Keep livin’ reckless, keep throwin’ yourself into situations not knowing and not totally carin’ if you survive. But like I
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