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“The last man who messed with my radio got his fingers broken,” I teased. She let out a snort, a cute little noise. “Good thing I’m not a man.”
“The box is for me?” “No. Yes. Sort of.” She frowned. “Clear as mud, Brennan.”
When he groaned into my mouth, the noise rumbling through my very centre, his soft beard brushing my skin, his fingers tightening around the back of my neck, I knew I’d forever be wrecked. Ruined. Broken into a thousand pieces that would only fit him.
“Some people are born into family. We get to choose ours. We make our own, forged out of our hearts and weaved together by the strings of our souls. And that is stronger than blood.” “So, you and me…” I sniffed, “we’re soul family?” He smiled. “Yeah. We are.”
She was the sky my soul circled in. Without her, my world had no air. She was mine.
It’d been almost seven long months since she left me. Seven months that had felt like seven years.
Declan grabbed the material of my shirt in his fists. “You,” he growled in my face, “are not flying halfway round the fucking world just to give up now.” “But she’s with a—” “Fuck the other guy.” Declan’s eyes blazed. “She belongs with you. Go remind her of that.”
“Just tell me…do you love him?” he whispered. “Does he…make you happy?”
“I tried to move on. I tried. But… I am yours. You have my skin.”
“You,” I said. “I love you. Will love you until my dying breath.”
“The only way others learn from us is not by our perfections,” he had said while we’d been cuddling in bed, “but by our mistakes, our failings, our vulnerabilities. Be bravely you, selkie. Those who deserve you, won’t judge you.”
“What I have learned most in my time here is that you don’t have to accept the life you were given. Make your own. Choose your own. Your own path. Your own future.”
“Silly fisherman,” I whispered. “I’ve always been yours. You have my skin, remember?” He grinned. “And you have mine.”