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Keira McKenna. Alive. Here. In front of me.
I thought there would come a time when there would be enough sentences after hers that the missing piece wouldn’t feel so gnawing, and I could finally move on.
“Because you’re still a ghost to me.”
“I knew a boy once who moved across the country because he thought he failed his mother. Then he came back, thinking he’d failed his badge.” His beady eyes met mine. “Only to have that failure follow him to his doorstep.”
how comforting it was to know that something that meant so much could never be left or taken from you.”
We’d both ended up in a place that we’d thought would be a haven from the chance we lost to be together. Instead, we’d found each other,
“And the truth is, past, present, or future, I will always regret every chance I give up to be with you.”
“I don’t want you to leave my house.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Or me.”
I wanted to tell her I loved her, but not tonight. Not until I could say it knowing she felt safe and free enough to say it back. So, until that day came, I would continue to show her—to give her the words without having to say them.
“I love you,” he repeated, his big fingers brushing my hair from where it stuck to my face. “I love you no matter what.” There was a ripple of silence so profound I swore it shifted the mountains in the distance with its force. A hot tear burned down my cheek. “I love you, too.”