same hand that once steadied Miles’s bike. The same hand that passed me tasting spoons in the kitchen.
When he opened his eyes and saw me, tears filled them immediately.
“Laurel?”
“I’m here.”
He apologized, but I told him the truth. I understood why he did it, but I hated what he had done. He had no right to decide my grief for me. He had no right to steal continue reading …