Kade breaks my heart as he slowly lowers his head to my shoulder. His hair tickles my nose. It’s sticky and tangled in places from Chris’s blood – some of it dried in completely, some still wet from mixing with his sweat – and I run my fingers down and back up, separating the hard clumps while his breathing turns less heavy. “You hate me,” he manages to say, his throat dry and rough. “You’re always going to hate me.”
