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He’d helped me become stronger, a fighter, a survivor.
A longer, harder road, where most days I found it paved with broken glass and I was forced to walk it without shoes.
His eyes intensely bored into mine as if he could see right through me and see my pain.
“You’re killing me, Shiloh,”
“And you won’t always be alone, Shiloh.”
“One down. Only fifty more sweatshirts to go.”
“You’re so beautiful when you laugh,”
“Your whole face lights up.” His eyes dropped to my mouth and he slowly trailed his finger along my bottom lip. “Your smile is the best part.”
“I don’t want to wake up. I’m dreaming about a pretty girl lying on top of me,”
“You’re wearing another man’s jersey, looking hot as hell, and we don’t like it,” Creed said bluntly. My brows shot toward my hairline. “But this is my jersey. Not Ethan’s.” Creed shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. It has his number on it. You might as well be advertising to the whole school you two are dating.”
“No. I don’t want you to ever feel self-conscious, but at the same time, I’m a selfish bastard.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t walk away,”
“It’s true. I think he cares for you so much, he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”
“Pretend it wouldn’t hurt Colt and Creed—is kissing me something you want?”
“You better go because all I want to do right now is kiss you again.”

