“The whole world isn’t rotten, but it’s like all you can see is the ugliness,” he whispers, almost as if he doesn’t mean to be speaking aloud. I’ve never felt so exposed. “There are still beautiful things, Summer-Raine,” he says gently, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear in a gesture so intimate I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to breathe again. “You just have to let yourself see them.”
