“I know we’re fucked up, all right? I’m impulsive, and hot-tempered, and you get under my skin like no one else. You act like you hate me one minute, and then you need me the next. I never get anything right, and I don’t deserve you…but I fucking love you, Abby. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone or anything, ever. When you’re around, I don’t need booze, or money, or the fighting, or the one-night stands…all I need is you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I dream about. You’re all I want.”
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“Don’t even think about it, Travis. She’s like my sister,” America warned.
“Baby,” Shepley said. “You just told him no. He’s never gonna stop, now.”
“You’re not her type,” she hedged.
Travis feigned insult. “I’m everyone’s type!”
I peeked over at him and smiled.“Ah! A smile. I’m not a rotten bastard after all,” he winked. “It was nice to meet you, Pidge.”