“Are you ready to go back to sleep?” Jake asks. “Definitely.” “Thank fuck.” And before I can ask if he would prefer it if I never woke up again, because we all know that’s how my chemically rotted brain interprets his enthusiasm, Jake smooths his thumb over my exposed cheek in the most adoring way, like some romance movie shit, and I can’t remember someone ever caring about me this much before. How can something so wonderful hurt like this?
