For a moment I’m too scared to open my eyes, but when I hear Nick shouting my name and the thunderous clamor of his feet flying up the stairs, I finally look around me. Home. Relief surges through my blood like a drug. It’s nighttime here, but I’m home with him and nothing else matters. He reaches the hallway, wild-eyed, and drops to the ground, pulling me to his lap and rocking me like I’m a child. “Thank fucking God,” he says. His voice is rough. “Thank God.” “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I tell him, weeping hard enough that I’m barely coherent. “I didn’t mean to. It just happened and I
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