“I love you so much,” she whispers against my ear. “I would die without you.” She wouldn’t. We both know she wouldn’t. I probably would, but she’s too strong to die of a broken heart. Still, it feels good to hear her say the words, even if they make my chest ache. The thought of being without her is insurmountable. I shut my eyes and focus so I don’t hurt her by tightening my grip on her, but it’s what I want to do. I want to mold her to me. I want to make her entire being a part of me so I never have to live a moment without her. “Fuck, Lyla James.”
