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If you ask me, she looks downright beautiful.
“Knees are sore. Otherwise, can’t complain. Got a roof over my head, food in my belly, and a husband with a big dick.”
Slow and steady. That’s what this man represents. No chaos. No panic. He soothes me.
“No, fancy face. Those”—he points at my face, finger flicking from side to side—“are wild eyes. The eyes of a woman who just chose fight over flight. Don’t smother that. Keep ‘em and you’ll come out on top. Trust me.”
“You look like a teenage girl who got kissed by a Jonas brother.
When he speaks, his voice is all gravel. “Well, I’ve been here to see you try to pet a bear. I’ve seen you with a bruised face. I’ve seen you get anxious. And Skylar? I like all those versions of you. You have me. You’ll always be relevant to me.”
“Okay, first, I won’t be erasing that from my memory.” I chuckle, watching the grass between my feet turn to dry dirt and pine needles as we pass closer to the house. “Thank fuck, because it’s burned into mine.”
“Breathing is overrated. I’d rather be drowning in you.”
In a world of things that have never been my own, it feels like he is.
“I would bid on you every time,”
