“She was bitten.”
“I don’t know how to do this without her.”
“You learn.” He draws me against his chest. “One breath at a time.”
“What if I can’t?”
“You will.” His lips brush my temple. “Because she asked you to.”
I bury my face in his shirt, letting everything pour out in waves. He holds me through it, one hand stroking my hair, the other keeping that steady pressure on my wrist.
“I’m here,” he murmurs. “I’m right here.”
“She was supposed to get better,” I sob into his neck. “She was going to have more time.”
“Tell me about her.”
“What?”
“Tell me something about Amelia that I don’t know.”
“She s-saved the good chocolates for me,” I whisper. “My mother always got this one box with d-different ones in it.”
“What kind?”
“C-caramel, nuts, nougat, truffle cappuccino, and cherry. I only liked the caramel ones. Meli said they were too sweet for her anyway.”
“But they weren’t.”
“No.” A wet laugh escapes. “She loved caramel. More than anything.”
His fingers thread through my hair.
“Do you?” I lean back to look at him. “Your friend—Liam—Do you?—”
His jaw tightens. “Every day.”
“Does it get easier?”
“No.” He frames my face. “But you get stronger.”
“I don’t feel strong.”
“You’re still breathing. That’s strong enough. So tell me. What else?”
“She…” I close my eyes, reaching for more. “She collected quotes. Wrote them in the margins of books, on scraps of paper. Had this whole shoebox full of them under her bed.”
“Do you remember any?”
“‘We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.’” The words come without effort. “Oscar Wilde. She said it meant that suffering doesn’t have to make you ugly inside.”
“What else?”
EPILOGUE
DAKOTA
Rain drums against the roof, a soothing rhythm that almost, almost, drowns out the persistent ache in my chest. It’s the first rain in… forever.
