“It's over. Go home."His eyebrows pulled in. "You're my home.”

“I'm done, Travis." He winced. "Don't say that." "It's over. Go home." His eyebrows pulled in. "You're my home.”

“It's over. Go home.You're my home.”

“I’m done, Travis.”“Don’t say that.”“It’s over. Go home.”“You’re my home.”

“I'm not your anything," I snapped, glaring up at him. His eyebrows pulled in and he stopped dancing. "You're my everything.”

“You're my Home”

“You can’t be that sure,” he said, the anxiousness absent from his voice.I raised an eyebrow, and my mouth pulled to one side. “Wanna bet?”