I’d thought over and over that maybe I’d never see him again. That maybe I didn’t want to. And here I was, swallowing down the cry trapped in my throat. He was beautiful and terrifying and stoically cold. He was Saint. A puff of smoke trailed up from his lips before he looked at me, and I thought I might have seen something there in his steely blue eyes that mirrored the roaring feeling inside of me. But when his eyes shifted, it was gone.
