Wednesday by Wednesday, week by week, I have loved you. Like Silas hadn’t. Like he didn’t dream of the Tory asleep and awake, like he hadn’t shamed himself with fantasies of lives together, like he hadn’t surrendered in his soul as much as Dom ever had on his knees. Like he didn’t want to give up everything he’d ever fought for, every scrap of it, for his dark-eyed beauty. He feared in his bones that he’d give in if Dom asked, and Dom knew it and didn’t ask. Silas loved him more for that, with a heart so poorly suited and so unaccustomed to love that he felt it might burst its
