More Than We Can Tell (Letters to the Lost #2)

by Brigid Kemmerer

“Is this okay?” he whispers. This would be so mawkish and unbelievable if I tried to explain this moment later. The rainstorm, the bench, the darkness. But his breath is fractured and his manner is uncertain and this feels as significant for him as it is for me. “Yes,” I say. “Do you want me to let go so you can text?” He inhales—and his breathing steadies. He turns his head, and his breath brushes my neck. “I don’t want you to let go.” “Okay.”

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH