“I think you were made just for me,” he said, his voice so sure it scared me more than anything else in the world. My breath caught. My heart stuttered and then thundered, slamming against my ribs like it wanted to leap right into his hands. “Easton…” He didn’t give me time to say more. Maybe he knew I’d try to ruin it with logic or fear or something else that had nothing to do with him. “You’re my one, Natalie. I’ve always known it. And I won’t mess it up.” I hadn’t said anything then. But I’d never forgotten it. Not his voice. Not that night. Not the way his hand held mine like it belonged
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