Heartsong (Green Creek, #3)

by T.J. Klune

I often find that saying what you mean is easier than saying what you don’t.”

“What did you remember?” “The way you loved me.” It was a punch to the stomach. “You loved me,” Kelly said softly, “without reservation. Without expecting anything in return. You loved me, and I knew that you wouldn’t stop, not unless you were forced to. And I knew then that I wouldn’t stop, no matter what it took.”

You brought me flowers once. Mom was pissed because you ripped them up from her flower bed and there were still roots and dirt hanging from the bottom, but you were so damn proud of yourself. You said it was romantic. And I believed you.” He plucked a blade of grass and held it in the palm of his hand. “There was something … I don’t know. Endless. About you and me.”

“I see you. For all that you are. For all that you’re not. And I never want to lose sight of you again.”