And I’ll miss mine so fucking badly that I can’t breathe.” “I wish you could go home again,” I say, wanting to cry. Drew’s eyes lock onto me. “I do too. But I think we have to make our own homes.” Looking at him, gilded by sunlight, his expression tight with weariness but earnest as he watches me, I think that I could love this man. I could love him forever. My breath grows short. “When I do find my own home,” I say, “I’m never letting it go.”
