How can Nash be so fucking mean? To say something like that to me, to imply I’m a disappointment, after everything I’ve done, after everything I’ve let him do to me. I dig my nails into Waylon’s thighs, and swallow around the sudden lump in my throat, even as I try to blink back the tears burning my eyes, but the sob nor the hot tears will be restrained. My shoulders shake as I press my face into Waylon’s thigh. He’s frozen under me for half a second before Nash’s strong arms are pulling me upright and into his solid…
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