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We both exhale, and I don’t know who needs this more. The angel caught up in chaos, or the demon searching for peace.
“I’ve had it wrong, Callie. This whole time I thought you needed a savior, and I knew I couldn’t be that man. But I see it so clearly now. You’re my savior. My angel. My redemption.” “And you’re my hope.” She grips my face, and our gazes entangle. “Give me everything, Cole. I want all of you.”
“We talked about making a worry box. Have you ever heard of something like that?” My head tilts. “No. What is it?” “You write down whatever’s on your mind. Whatever’s making you anxious, or whatever you’re scared of. Then, you fold it up and slip it into the box. It’s supposed to help get the negative thoughts out of your head, and it serves as a visual, like you’re physically putting the thought away.”
In the life that was once mine. With the secrets that were my own. And I choose to smile, because life is all about the choices we make. We choose to see things one way or the other. We choose to accept or to hate. We choose to be happy or sad. Bitter or grateful. To forgive or blame. To hold on or let go.
