“Don’t,” she begs. “I brought you here to show you we aren’t just monsters; we are good guys as well. We aren’t perfect, but nobody is.” “Bray, I never thought you were, but please, don’t,” she implores desperately. “But I love you, Blair. Every wild, sarcastic, perfect scarred inch of you.” “Don’t love me,” she whispers. “Too late, babe.” I lean down and kiss her. “I’ll break your heart,” she whimpers with tears in her eyes. Her gaze speaks volumes, telling me that although she doesn’t want to, she loves me too. “It’s yours to break,” I vow.
