“How long does your heart need?” She stroked my arm soothingly, her hands so much smaller than my own. “How long are you gonna tell yourself you’re not worthy of the kinda love you want? How long until you’re ready to admit that you’re the one that’s been running, all this time. Not everyone else. How long till you choose to stay, Miles Johnson?” Gram’s words hit me like a sledgehammer. They sat like a noose around my heart as I finished prepping for the party, and I let her advice begin to settle inside the cracks inside my mind.
