“Because someone has to remind both of us.”
“I’m not a child.”
“I know that.”
“Then stop treating my feelings like they’re temporary because they’re inconvenient.”
His face tightened.
That hit him.
Good.
Maybe I wanted it to.
Maybe I wanted one thing to land on him as hard as he kept landing on me.
“I’m not saying what you feel isn’t real,” he said quietly. “I’m saying real doesn’t always mean right now.”
The words hurt worse because they were gentle.
I looked down at the bracelet.
Mother-of-pearl shimmered on my wrist, soft as moonlight.
“What if I don’t want to forget you?” I asked.
Dylan exhaled like something inside him broke.
“Then don’t.”
My eyes lifted.
He stepped closer this time.
Not touching.
Close enough that I could feel his warmth.
“Don’t forget me,” he said. “Just don’t stop your life for me.”
The first tear slipped before I could catch it.
Dylan saw it.
His hand lifted, hesitated, then brushed it away with his thumb.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
“I hate when you’re right.”
“I’m almost never right. Let me have this.”
A watery laugh escaped me.
His smile was small and sad.
“I wanted to give you something,” he said. “Something that didn’t ask for anything back.”
