Play With Me (Playing for Keeps, #2)

by Becka Mack

I keep waiting for Christmases without him to get easier, but I’m learning that’s not how grief works. I don’t know that grief even has set rules, only that it pretty much always does the opposite of what you think it will. You think you know what to expect because you went through it last year, and the year before, and the one before that. You’ll be prepared this time. Right?

Grief’s not that simple. It’s a fucking mindfuck.