Stenna

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“You’re in pain,” he states bluntly. I give him a side-eye. “Yeah, and?” His eyes drop to the floor, like he’s considering punching the inanimate rock for daring to throw my back out of place. Ultimately, he grabs the blanket and shotgun, then lifts his eyes and says, “I’ll take care of that later. Let’s go, baby.”
Does It Hurt?
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