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416 pages, Kindle Edition
First published July 15, 2025
I tried to get the words out, but I couldn’t find them. How could I? How do you thank someone for this? I’d been given flowers. Apologies. Promises. But never this. Never plans. Never permanence. Never the kind of love that was built like a house—measured, crafted, and meant to last. How do you tell someone that this—this quiet, deliberate care—is the most loved you’ve ever felt in your entire life?
Sam must have seen it in my eyes, because his grip on my hand tightened, like he was reminding me that I didn’t have to find the words—not with him.
I wore the life they gave me like a diamond collar. Beautiful. Restrictive. Designed to impress—tight enough to silence. Because expectations are the heaviest cages. You don’t see the bars until you try to leave.
The night was unseasonably warm—low fifties, crisp but bearable, the kind of cold that made you breathe deeper instead of shiver. The sky stretched deep indigo, scattered with stars. The bonfire crackled at the heart of the marina, flames twisting upward, sending embers drifting like fireflies set loose. Laughter and music rolled over the water, the glow flickering across the lake’s surface—like the shimmer of a struck match, brief and electric, alive for just a moment before vanishing into the night.”
You never look away from me—even when I’m at my worst. Especially then. That’s what undoes me. You don’t try to fix me. You don’t fill the silence. You just reach for my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world and say, I’m here. And I believe you. Every time.
You’ve taught me what strength really is—not perfection, not pretending—but heart. Stillness. Loyalty. You’ve made me want to fight for myself the way you fight for me.
You’ve become a quiet constant in the middle of my chaos. A hand on my back. A voice in the dark. A place to land when everything else feels sharp. Because of you, starting over doesn’t feel like failure anymore. It feels like freedom.
You make the hard days bearable. The quiet ones feel sacred. And the messy ones almost beautiful.