“You said I was dead to you.” “I looked for you all summer.” “I wish I was dead to you,” I choke out. “I wish we both were. I will never look at your face without picturing the moment you’re dead and I can finally breathe again.” He steps toward me, but he stops, his fingers curling, as if he’s holding back from reaching for me. “Then let me breathe for you until you remember how. Because I’m not going anywhere, Harper.”
