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Carlos shifted, his shoulders tensing slightly, and Jay could see how ingrained this habit was in him—the reluctance to accept any care for himself, even when it could help. But Jay wasn’t having it. Not anymore.
“Listen to me, pup,” Jay said, his voice low, resolute. “I don’t care what you think you can or can’t ask for. You’re mine, and that means I want you to have what you need—always. I don’t want you hiding from me. You don’t have to keep pretending you’re fine, not with me.”