“But who are you?” she pressed on a whisper. “The real you? Do you know?”
He made a mirthless sound, unwilling to tell her most of what he’d found out about himself wasn’t worth shit. “You don’t know me,” he conceded, relenting at her softening look. “I don’t really know me. I want to be the man I’ve tried to be since I let Outlaw’s son go home. But I’m not that guy, Bunny.”
“Who are you?” she repeated, searching for an answer to some unspoken question.
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