The Last Letter

by Rebecca Yarros

If you ever let your feet stand in one location long enough for something to grow.” Worthless. You ruin everything.

I could have been in a room with a dozen people I knew—I still would have been alone.

He’s hot in a take-me-on-the-kitchen-counter-and-let-me-bear-your-children kind of way.

He might look all fluffy and frosted, but under the clothes he was devil’s food, period. And I really, really, really liked chocolate.

I loved this man, and he loved me. That was worth fighting for, right? But how toxic would we be if we ever found a way past it? I would never forget what he’d done—it would always linger over us like an ominous cloud, raining down poison.

Love—when it was right—was enough to save you. Beckett taught me that every single day. And ours was more than enough. And so was I.