“Keeping me means surviving you.” His brows snap together. “Explain.” “If I give myself to you—” “When,” he interjects. I glare up at him, but it lacks any real heat. “If I give myself to you, you’ll break me into pieces so small I won’t be able to put myself back together or make myself whole.” “I’ll fuse your broken pieces with mine. Together, we’ll be whole, Callie.”
