and pull him close. He was wearing the cutest little tennis shoes. Dad shoes, I thought fondly as I squeezed the thermos tight. “I’ll fix your frame when I come back; I’ll need to bring some extra stuff.” Baxter waved me off, “No need. I don’t mind the mattress on the floor for a while.” I stared at him, my eyes narrowing. The words that left my throat were little more than a growl. “You’re not sleeping on the floor.” “Well, technically the mattress is the one sleeping on the floor,” Baxter joked. “No partner of mine is sleeping on the goddamn floor.” Baxter’s jaw dropped a little and I
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