His words seemed to pluck at something sweet and hopeful inside, and Lettie suddenly found herself wanting to cry, wishing she could cry. But as always, though she felt the sting, no tears came. Perhaps she was incapable of weeping; perhaps she'd simply forgotten how. She wasn't sure.
All she could be certain of, then, was the pounding of blood under her skin, turning her face the same blotchy red as if she'd been bawling for an hour, buzzing seductively where Arkady's lips touched her ear. She drew a ragged, strained breath, but she didn't let go of his hand. In fact, she squeezed tighter, as if to say, I believe you