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Grief. It’s a funny and horrible thing. Like your lungs, it expands and contracts.
You don’t have to stay with me. I’m fine.” Kade lets out a rumbling sound. “Presley. It’s okay. I want to be here.”
Everyone likes to feel special, to feel as if they mean something. To feel as if they mean something to someone—even if it’s as simple as being called by a nickname.
“Lemon,” he says gently. “Look at me.” I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that what I’m feeling doesn’t show before I turn my head to him. He shifts his arm under my chest so I’m more supported, the small movement doing nothing to help keep my emotions at bay. “Feel whatever you need to feel. Let me take care of you.”
“Let’s turn this city girl into a cowgirl, Big John.”
“I need you, Kade. Just you.”
“You’re not replaceable. You’re remarkable.”
“Do not limit yourself to what you think you need to want, what you think you need to be. It sounds like you have the opportunity now to do something else if you want.”
