Saylor turns to look at me. Her steps are hesitant, but she slowly closes the space between us. Reaching out, she takes my hand in hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. A goddamn lightning strike would’ve been preferable to the reaction it causes inside of me. My brain is screaming ‘Abort!’ but my body has other plans because my fingers force their way between hers until they’re twined together. “You’re welcome, Tink.” And down goes another one.
