“Us doesn’t exist anymore. You made it so,” he says, closing in behind me, his warmth unbearably absent. Lifting his hand, he slowly slides his fingers along the number on my spine. My heart lurches against my ribcage, begging to be released. Swallowing, I free myself to love him without abandon in these seconds. “Easton, I can’t go on like this, if you won’t talk—” “You were a temporary high…and now you’re a stain.” He palms his chest, “That’s what you are to me now, Natalie, a fucking stain.” I turn and grip his wrist, glaring up at him. “You don’t get to take it back, not any of it,” I
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