I wasn’t so delusional—or out of touch with my own emotions—that I could deny how I felt about her. I’d loved Grace for most of my life, and I always would. But coming home and slipping back into the life we’d started wasn’t an option. I had too many demons inside me. Violent ones. I didn’t trust myself, and I didn’t know if I ever would. But I was weak when it came to her. When I’d hugged her Tuesday night, out on the back porch, I’d almost cracked. She’d felt so good, it had taken every ounce of willpower I possessed to pull away. To stop myself from kissing her. Now she was like a flame I
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