David lived with grace. I don’t know if I understood that word until today. “Thank you for showing me grace,” I whisper. I press my forehead to the wall and cry. It’s ironic that the very place I met him is the place where I finally feel strong enough to say goodbye. Powerful arms wrap around me, pulling me to my feet. Westin turns me into his warm chest. I grip his shirt in my fists. He lets me cry. He lets me cry. He lets me cry.
