“I think you’re just scared, Ryne,” Dacen whispers, rubbing his thumb along my jaw. “Putting your,” he swallows hard. “Putting your heart in someone else’s hands is a scary thing. They can choose to hold it close and cherish it, or rip it apart and walk away, leaving you with a shredded mess and no hope of piecing it back together unchanged. Scary shit,” he laughs shakily.
