She presses a tender kiss to my lips, so many emotions flooding out between us. Spilling out of me, drowning my system. Her forehead tilts against mine, tips of our noses brushing together. “Meet you at the top, Sinclaire?” My fingers pulse around her ribs, and I know that this is the moment where I let her go. It makes me nauseous. But I choke out the words she needs to hear anyway. “Meet you at the top, Wildflower.”
