PREVIEW
... lace like a specimen beneath glass. My heart races, a wild, desperate rhythm I can’t control.
He looks hurt—genuinely, deeply hurt—and I don’t know what to do with that.
Neon. Calm down. Shouting isn’t going to fix this. Arguing isn’t going to fix this.
He’s hurting, and you need to handle it with softness.
I take a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs, letting it steady me. The air tastes like candle wax and roses and something else—something raw and honest I c ...
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