The hoodie falls around the back of his neck and my heart fucking flatlines. Stumbling backward, I reach for the railing to break my fall when the smirk I’ve fucking bled for every night since he has been gone flashes in front of me. Not in a memory. In real fucking time. He tugs down the bandana. “You’re right. I do laugh at you both. Often.” And just like that, I want to hit him.
