“Well, maybe you didn’t say it wasn’t a place. But you said something about it being the feeling that you know you belong somewhere. You miss it when you’re gone. You’re the most you at home.” “Okay . . .” He took me by the shoulders again. “Sorry, I’m bad at the no-touching thing. But that’s what it is. When I’m with you, I know where I belong. I never want to be anywhere else. I miss you when you’re not there. I’m the most me when I’m with you—because you’re the only one who sees the real me.” He took a breath. “Wherever you are is home to me. And I don’t want to leave home again.”
