I ask him softly, timidly, our hands still connected, “Will you be my friend, Oliver Lynch?” And then I slip him a smile, lightening the moment. There is a noticeable hitch in his demeanor, a brief, silent battle between his inherent fears and his desire to conquer them. A war between his years of isolation, the only thing he truly knows, and…me. My heartbeat picks up as I await his response, my fingers crawling into the cracks of his own, pressing his hand further against my cheek. Oliver releases a surrendering breath, and his lips draw up into a smile that matches mine. A weight lifts. “I
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