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Well, shit.

*Maverick*

I watch the clock next to my bed tick past one in the morning, and I resist the urge to scream in frustration. What the hell else could they possibly have to talk about? They have been together since nine yesterday morning. They should have run out of things to talk about by now. My stomach twists violently. Maybe they did run out of things to say.

Shit, maybe there has been no talking at all for the last few hours. Images flood my mind of Tatum with Artemis and I groan. I can taste bile in the back of my mouth and I toss my blankets off me, tracking to the bathroom to splash water on my face. I have no right to be sick to my stomach over the thought of them being together. Yet as I lean over the sink and turn on the water, I know this will only get worse.

Tatum Rhodes is under my damn skin again and I can’t shake the fucking feeling removing her this time is going to be the death of me. If it weren’t for the rarity of second chance mates, or the lack of sparks when we to
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goodnovel comment avatar
tyebug2015
Haha, that's a twist
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