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... locking onto mine. There’s something in that gaze—something warm, deep, unwavering. That quiet look that says I’m his whole world, and it’s so casual, so unguarded, it hits me like a punch to the chest.

"Hey," I say softly, and the word feels small, inadequate.

But it makes him smile anyway.

Just past him, our little terror is still crouched beside the long pond, tossing petals into the water and watching the lily pads tremble.

"Hey, little tyrant," I say, steppin ...

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