Hallick’s POV
I don’t know what it is about this woman, but I can’t seem to stop everything spilling out of my mouth whenever she’s near. She just has to ask me one, innocuous question, and I’m telling her every single thing that I’ve carried around in my heart over the years.
Her soft hand cups my cheek, and I can’t stop myself from nuzzling into her palm, soaking in her warmth as she gazes up at me.
‘You are not a bad uncle’ she tells me firmly, ‘you are an amazing uncle! Your nieces and nephews wouldn’t message you if they thought you were a bad person.’
A lump forms in my throat, because that is what I’ve tried to tell myself over the years. Benson wouldn’t message me every Saturday to tell me the score from his weekly baseball game, Yvette wouldn’t send me pictures of her drawings ……
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