“I do love her. I do. But . . .” I stopped in my tracks. “I can’t get over this fucking thing in my head telling me I’m not good enough for her.” My sister shrugged. “Maybe you’re not.” I stared at her. “Huh?” “I mean, maybe the thing in your head is right. Maybe you’re not good enough for her. Maybe you’re going to fuck it up. Maybe she’ll decide you’re not worth the trouble.” I frowned at her. “You’re not helping.” “But maybe,” she went on, “maybe you risk it. Maybe you get to spend the rest of your life doing things to make every day better for her. You’ve already got her heart, Hutton. So
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