“I want Ryder Stellan Bergman. Flannel king and fearless mountain man. I want my Business Math buddy. I want the guy who ruins guacamole and who knows how to touch my hair. I want the asshole who whistles at my games and hugs me so hard my lungs feel like they’ll pop.” She swallows. “I love that feeling when you’re so close to pushing too hard, squeezing too tight, then you know exactly when to stop. You know when to battle and when to say sorry.” My breath comes out jagged. My heart is smashed in a vise of emotions that Willa’s words only twist tighter. “I want Ryder who read to my dying
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