Yet I could watch him for the rest of my days and never be afraid. He’d become my favorite part of my existence, breathing life into parts of my soul that had died. In such a brief acquaintance, this breathtaking man had carved a jagged hole in my heart and buried himself inside it. It was crude and bloody, still raw where it tore, but I held the pain close. I never wanted to be free of him. I couldn’t explain his importance to me. He was a thief. A stranger. A sinner, yet he called to me in ways I didn’t know one soul could beckon another.
