“Tell him, some day, how it feels to love someone who wasn’t built for you,” she whispers. She’s got tears spilling from her eyes again. “Because I need him to be okay, Wright. I need him to live after me.” Wright nods. “I’ll tell him,” he lies. “Tell him it feels like summer.” It feels like a lavender field hot with gunpowder. “I’ll tell him it smells like sunshine,” he breathes, kissing the tears from her cheeks. It smells like warm yarn drenched in gasoline. “That it tastes like salted caramel.”
