Conor Sharkey

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She hugged me tight again and said, “I’d rather have you. Making me pancakes.” “Me, too,” I said, and kissed her hair. “Don’t let them get you,” she said. “Make things right and kick their … their butts.” “When you’re eighteen,” I said, “you can say asses.” She let out a titter and nodded against my neck.
Peace Talks (The Dresden Files, #16)
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