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she marveled at how nice it was to spend time with someone who not only interested her but found her interesting. Who not only talked but listened.
Her routine included rising late, picking at breakfast, writing down the pain, and indulging in some negative self-image.
She wasn’t worthy of him. She hadn’t survived what he had survived. She hadn’t survived anything. Her life had been bloodless.
Chess wanted to feel it all—the pain, the grief, the guilt. Bring it on.
he wasn’t the kind of man you could apologize to. He was the kind of man you tried to keep happy because one slip and…
