“You fight. Every moment of every day, you fight. Because that is who you are,” he whispered, dropping his forehead to mine. “What happens when I’m tired of fighting?” I asked, trying to ignore the pool of tears threatening to fall. Hoping the water from the shower would wash them away before he could notice. His face softened, his lips touching mine in a kiss that was so much more delicate than any other. “Then you let me do it for you.”
