“I love you,” Callum tells me, just as I start to pour the juice. I end up sloshing an inordinate amount on the bed, but I guess it doesn’t matter since it smells like wet pennies and mud from the bottom of Cal’s boots. “You know that, don’t you? I’m sorry if I haven’t said it in so many words.” He reaches up and ruffles his angelic blond hair with his slashed and splinter-filled fingers. I’m going to need a pair of tweezers to get most of them out.
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