“They’ll never matter to us, Ryen. No one knows how this feels.” Tears ache behind my eyes, and I breathe hard, giving in to it. I slide my thigh over his lap and straddle him. I fist his T-shirt, our lips inches from each other. “If you touched her,” I cry softly, “it’s not going to be pretty.” He nods. “I know. I’ll keep the knife in here for you.”
