He’s lodged in my brain—the same way food and sleep and oxygen are, wired into it as a need, not a want. I don’t know how that happened in such a short time. I didn’t think it was possible. Somehow, the hours I spent loving Blake are just as significant as the years I spent loving Nate. Then again, maybe that’s all this is supposed to be, powerful and fleeting, a reminder that love doesn’t have to be forever to be real.
