And
here’s Evan, stuffing his face like he has a right to the food, to the control, to me. I still love this man,
but sometimes I forget. Sometimes the resentments that simmer beneath the
surface pop up and create one hell of a rolling boil.
“I
don’t see why not,” I say.
“What
am I going to do?”
“Whack
off,” I say. “Otherwise, your ass can just wait for me to return.”
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