“Dex, this garden meant something to me,” I admitted. “It meant something to us.” His green eyes scanned the area. “A high school crush is barely something to fret over.” Flippantly, he dismissed all we’d had. “Is that all it was to you?” “What more could it be? You left and moved on. So did I.” Why did I want him to not mean it? Why did I need him to hurt like I did? Because I still loved him. I still dreamed of this spot. I still held on to the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands, the way his heart beat with mine. “I didn’t move on,” I uttered, my voice cracking under the weight of my
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