Sarah Schuster

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I kiss him to shut him up. I don’t want to hear anything else he wants to say. It hurts too much. And it feels too fucking perfect to ignore. The kiss ends with us holding each other, and mercifully, we are both out of words. The sun slowly begins to fall, and after a look into each other’s eyes, we wordlessly decide to head off, leaving our moment to the ducks and the twinkling water.
Wrangled (Spruce Texas, #4)
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