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“He’s a man with too many secrets and no one to share them with.” —Cecelia, Flock
“You’re an asshole.” And you’re the most beautiful punishment I’ve ever been dealt.
A vow without words but a promise just the same. A promise I’ll do everything in my power to keep. Looking into her eyes, I vow she’ll never know about the monsters she can’t see because I’ll slay them all before they have a chance to get to her. Even if that monster is me.
Trying to reason with love is fucking pointless. It doesn’t care about your reasons, right or wrong. Love has no regard for circumstance, nor does it give a fuck what state it puts you in. It’s a relentless and unforgiving emotion that will never let you lie to yourself. —Tobias, The Finish Line
“I have to let you go for now, but I don’t fucking want to . . . I don’t have a choice, but everything I do now, it’s for you.”
“You gutted me, baby,” I croak in confession as my chest caves. “But I can’t say I don’t deserve it . . .” I falter, grunting through the pain consuming me. “You thrive on love, and I . . . we fucking starved your heart . . . we just left you here.”
“We both know I didn’t deserve you . . . but you made me feel like I did . . . even if I wouldn’t fucking hold your hand,” I admit. “I was going to,” I sniff. “I was going to try to be that guy. I was that guy. I just . . .” I slide my thumb along hers, the burn unbearable. “I would give fucking anything for one more day. Just one.”
Cracking wide, I bend over her, pressing my forehead to hers, “I’m sorry.” Feeling the shatter of finality, I press a salty, damp kiss to her temple, my whisper for her ear, my last confession, far, far too late. “I love you too, Cecelia.” No more rain.
“We love rainy days, don’t we, baby?” “We do,” she croaks, voice breaking.