“I just like how you take care of me.” He sighed softly. “Even when I wanted to kill…eat…whatever…you have always taken care of me.” The fingers of his unbroken hand ran through her sand colored waves.
“Yep. There is a bottle in the pocket of my jeans.” Thank god. This was the sort of pain that whiskey just would not touch.
“We will do this anyway you want. No matter what the request is, my girl will get it.”