Reaching toward her face, I carefully sweep the soft curls away from her cheek. The simple touch comes with startling realization. I want to take care of her. It’s not just a desire. It’s instinct. Whether I’ve earned that right is negligible. She’s my responsibility. I don’t know what that means exactly, but it feels like I could run forever, search forever, and end up right back where I’m at. I’m destined for this, whatever this is.
