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“Damen,” I said through clenched teeth. “That is the laundry bag.”
He looked down.
Then at Lorenzo.
Lorenzo, wisely, said nothing.
The ride to the hospital blurred into rain, contractions, and Damen holding my hand while pretending I was not crushing his fingers. He kept murmuring things I barely heard.
You’re safe.
I’m here.
Breathe with me.
I’m not leaving.continue reading …
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