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She stares up at me with big, blue eyes that sucker punch me right in the damn chest. I don’t usually like children—too loud and demanding—but there’s something about this tiny speck of sass and fire that I find endearing. “I missed you, giant.” I blink, taken aback. “Me?” A smile blooms across her pink lips. “Where have you been?” “Hiding, obviously.” “You’re too big and fat to hide from me!”
If she thinks it’s okay to be in pain, we’re gonna have a serious problem.
To my shock, he stretches out to lie down in the grass next to me. Arianna wastes no time adorning him with his own tiny daisy crown. Killian grumbles a complaint but doesn’t stop her from dressing him in flowers. “Now we match,” I whisper to him. “If anyone sees me in this shit, my reputation is ruined.” “You’re the one that laid down. Suck it up.”
“Perhaps you want me to trace every single inch of your body with my tongue, or for me to taste how wet your pussy is in this moment.” “Zach,” I gasp, embarrassed. “What?” he counters. “Don’t deny it. I can see your legs pressing together. Does it hurt, beautiful girl? Is your cunt soaking wet and begging for me to touch it?”
Let me hold you. When you wake up screaming, I’ll be there. I’ll fight your demons for as long as you need me to.” “Do you promise?” Willow whimpers. “I swear on my fucking life. No one will ever hurt you again.”
It was a brand new life, barely just beginning inside of me. Now, it’s gone.
But I’m still mourning. Pain doesn’t always make sense. Sometimes, it just… is.
“You’re here,” I say sleepily. He tosses another log on the fire. “I didn’t want to paint.” “Why not?” “Because Arianna needed me, and I wanted to be with you. That’s more important to me than some stupid paint pallets.”
“You’re human,” he whispers. “Being human doesn’t make sense.” “What do you mean?” “We mourn things that don’t exist and chase dreams that will never materialise. We cry when we’re happy and laugh when we’re sad. Our whole existence is imperfect.”
Maybe, I’m allowed to mourn. It’s okay to embrace the pain that brings, as long as I remember to come back to life when the time for grieving is done. I have to live.
“You’re wrong. I’m broken.” “Broken wings can still fly. You are living proof of that.”
“Head over fucking heels, babe. I don’t give a shit about whether I have to share you. All I want is the privilege of owning a piece of your heart.”
