“Rafe, why did you draw me?” I whisper. The silence drags on so long that I don’t think he’ll answer, but then he says, “Because I draw things that are beautiful to me.” Inhaling a shaky breath, my hand slides to his chest, where I feel his heart beating in a steady, soothing rhythm. “Thank you,” I reply. For the way he’s holding me. For calling me beautiful. For making me feel safe in this moment.
