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“Are you sure you can’t read my mind?” I whisper, the humor lost in my voice. He hugs me close. There is nowhere safer than in Loren Hale’s arms.
Rose’s yellow-green eyes are practically radiating heat, and her body is shifted towards Connor. He stares at her like she invented the sun, a look I’ve seen a million times when they have their epic nerd battles.
People make mistakes every day, some small and some big, but I just wonder when I’ll stop making them. Or is this a lifelong thing? Do we all just wander through life, fucking up and trying to put ourselves back together only to continue on again? Are we the accumulation of our mistakes?
He devoured Game of Thrones before watching the television show. I told him that I finished the first book, but really, I just skipped around and read Arya’s parts. She’s the best.
I love her. The world seems empty whenever I watch her. It’s a peaceful existence.
Physically, mentally, emotionally—Loren Hale has all of me.
I am miles away from the one person who can talk me down from this edge. From the one person who has been with me every step of my life. Who has shared memories and moments that no one else will ever see. If I give up, she is gone. I destroy this bond that transcends love, taking her soul with me. It is the only thing that keeps me breathing.
Very softly, he says, “I wouldn’t be here without you.” It is bigger than an I love you. It is a declaration that solidifies what I’ve known for so long. We aren’t connected by our addictions. But by our childhood. Souls fused together from the very, very start.
She clings to me like I may slip through her arms, pull back and leave. I wouldn’t. I can’t. Our love is rare. It’s one I can’t abandon, even if I tried. When she screams, an identical one rips through me. When she cries, my world rains with grief. When she loves, I truly, truly fly.
The perseverance to do anything, to be anything. To thrive. Someday, that word will belong to us too. After years of coming up short, it’s all I’ve ever wanted.
When we break apart, his forehead on mine, he whispers, “You and me.” I smile against his lips. “Lily and Lo.” “And someone else,” he says. And someone else.
