“I saw you, Wicker—the real you—and everything felt different. You weren’t a monster anymore. You were just…” At first, I think I can't possibly find the words. But he’s so close—close enough to reach out and touch, my palm cradling his pale cheek. “You were sad, and genuine, and scared, and beautiful, and…” His eyes are wide enough that I could count the capillaries if I tried. The truth is, I could go on and on, finding new words to describe the man I catch these stunning glimpses of. Maybe that’s part of the reason I confess, “You were someone I could feel myself falling for.”
