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 my choice and call it protection.continue reading …
