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CHAPTER 8

Thump. My heart pounded almost painfully, and it took everything I had to turn around. Because as much as I could stare at him all day, I didn’t want to.

I didn’t want to look at him and remember lying on the beach. I didn’t want my mind to be flooded by memories of late nights in the woods. I didn’t want to remember my dad smiling knowingly the next morning but never wringing my ass out. I didn’t want to remember Conor’s touch or his kiss or his smile or fucking anything about him.

Yet I turned, because his gaze was anything but avoidable. It was compelling, pleading, conflicted, like he wanted to drink me up but pushed me away at the same time.

I swallowed, running my eyes up his body. I couldn’t help but notice the way his jeans hugged his hips or the way his T-shirt clinged to his chest and arms or the way a few teenage girls were standing feet behind him giggling into their hands.

His gaze traveled from me to the only child in the park—mine. Ours. I watched as he stared at her ha
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