Lo jumps in, soaking his pants, and he holds Lily’s colorless cheeks steadily. “Lil, talk to me.” His voice is choked, pained beyond belief. Before the shower cuts off, it douses him, his light brown hair wet, and beads of water rolling down his razor-sharp cheeks. She looks fragile in his clutch, but my brother seems just as broken, just as dark and pained. My heart pounds as I watch her hurt exchange between them. Without the water gushing, her sobs echo in the high-ceilinged bathroom. Heavy sobs that morph into cries. “Lil, shhh,” Lo says. “You’re okay.”
stop it. :')
