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Or was it that Arlo was the sun, the moon, and the stars, and nothing else really compared?
“It didn’t matter if I took everything or nothing with me to Seattle. No place has ever or will ever feel like home without you.”
I don’t know what’s worse, knowing how much I hurt them when I left, or knowing how much they love me despite that.
“I love your broken.” He rubs his thumb over my lips and kisses me gently. “I love your wronged.” He kisses me again, this time a little firmer. “And I love your selfish.”
“I love you, Arlo. Every part of you. The things you love about yourself and especially the things you hate. I love them all.”
“You taught me how to love,” he exclaims. “Before you, I didn’t know what it was like to be loved, let alone to love someone in return. I love you, Frankie York. I always have and I always will.”
“I’ve learned from my mistakes, Frankie. And I would follow you anywhere.”
“One day you will understand the magnitude of my love for you. You will understand that all this”—he raises our joined hands in the air, gesturing to the meeting—“isn’t the ugly side of you. Do you know the strength, courage, and commitment it takes to live the life you do?
