you.”
He leaned back against my chest. It was a simple gesture, but it hit me like a sledgehammer. I smelled his hair—dust and sunshine. I felt his heartbeat.
The ice around my heart cracked.
“You’re okay, Samuel,” I whispered. “I got you.”
By the third week, the fear of Vernon Hastings had faded into the background. We were lulled into false security.continue reading …
