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He doesn’t finish his thought, but he doesn’t need to in order for me to know.
Fights people. Hurts people… Rapes people.
“Anyway, um,” he starts, licking his lips before sighing. “Just…Merry Christmas, River.”
Christmas.
I can’t believe even with the decorating today, it slipped my mind the moment he stepped into the kitchen.
Guess that’s what happens when you’re given a gift transcending beyond the meaning of the holiday.
And no, I’m not talking about the painting in my hand.
Setting the watercolor on the counter beside me, I glance up for his eyes to capture mine. And the second they do, I see more vulnerability in them then I ever thought possible from him.
I feel my hand reach out and curl around the collar of his shirt. Something like confusion crosses his face when I start tugging him to his feet. But when I simply wrap my arms around him and squeeze, he relaxes into me and returns my embrace.
“Thank you,” I almost choke on the words, my fingers twisting into the back of his shirt as I inhale his scent with a deep breath. “Thank you.”