“Lo,” I say softly. “Yeah?” “An addict will always be an addict?” There is no changing that, I think. He’s so quiet that I end up peeking at him with one eye. He stares at me with such intensity, stealing my breath. “Did you ever dream that we’d be cured or something?” he asks. My other eye opens. “No,” I whisper. “Did you?” He shakes his head. “I knew from the beginning that we’d be addicted after all.” His amber eyes bore straight through me. “I just didn’t know whether we’d be at a better place than we were before.” We are. I don’t even have to say the words. He knows the answer too. We’re
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