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“Ash?” a voice said. I straightened my spine. I’d know that voice anywhere. If I had slipped into a coma, it would wake me up. If I was six feet under, I’d dig myself out of the grave just to be closer to it, which was dramatic and startling and tragic and stupid. But it was true. “It’s just me out here,” he said. “The bar’s cleared out.” I’ll love you until we’re dust in the wind, Camille Ashwood. “I’m here, Cam.”
He was beautiful. He always had been, but beautiful things can be dangerous, too.
Honestly, I probably have one single sorrow, so I’ve never really had much to drown. But that one sorrow packed a hell of a punch—especially today. Because, today, she was getting married.
She broke my heart a million times after that, too, and time never did what it was supposed to do: heal or whatever.
My feelings for Cam were like an earthquake and its aftershocks. When they started, they were big and overwhelming, and once the main event had passed—once we’d gone our separate ways—I’d learned to live with the way they still shook me up at unexpected times.
Dusty kissed me again—he didn’t care that my mom was watching. “I’ll get you out of here someday, I promise.”
“I’ll love you until we’re dust, Camille Ashwood.”
“No. You’re a privilege, Cam. Being in your presence is a goddamn honor.”
There’s a reason that rearview mirrors are small and windshields are big.”
“We all need a little help to get where we’re going, you know. What matters is that the end result is yours.
“I love you madly and deeply. I love you in ways that people don’t believe exist in real life. I love you for who you’ve been and who you are and who you’re going to be, Ash.”
