“Nash,” I whisper, avoiding that intense gaze of his. “The pain you feel is the same pain I feel.” “You have no idea, Zara.” Looking up at him, the air between us grows thick. For the first time, he acknowledges the thing he’s feeling, and I’m hungry for it. Ravenous. I need it all. I need to heal every ounce of his pain. “Yes, I do. I know it’s not just grief. I know it’s the guilt eating you up. Guilt for surviving. For outliving them. For feeling like they took the wrong one.”
