“I’m sorry.” She lifts her hand to my jaw and skims her fingers over the stubble there. “Why would you say that?” “Because you regret it,” she says, “and I should, too.” I close my eyes, telling myself this is only a moment. I’m so caught up in the pain and the memory, I can allow myself this touch. This contact of her skin with mine that makes me want so much I can never have. “I don’t regret it.” My voice breaks on the words, and I step away before I can say more. Before I can admit that memory is all I have. It’s the only thing that reminds me I’m alive. The memory of Mia’s mouth, her
...more
