You did this to me. You wormed your way inside. Now you’re in me, and you’re part of me, and I can’t breathe—I can’t breathe for loving you, Ryan. And now you have to let me die first, and I need you to swear it. Swear, Ryan.” “I swear,” I say gently, dropping my hand to my side. “Baby, I swear. You can go first, okay? Alice Cooper and his wife have a death pact. We can make one too. We’ll be in our 80s—well, that would make you like 90, right? But we’ll take the grandkids sledding. You’ll be in front on the toboggan, and we’ll crash ourselves into a tree, okay? You’ll feel the impact first.
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