Re: Under the Gazebo
Her hand drifted up to cup his cheek, and her thumb brushed against his cheekbone. It always comforted her to touch him, almost more than when he brushed his finger over her. She pursed her lips, bit down hard, because she really, really wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him how wrong he was and to convince him that she could if he gave her the chance.
"I might," she croaked out, eyes stinging and chest aching. She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut as a couple of tears slid down her cheeks. "I might," she repeated, eyes still closed and hand crumbling against his face. "You never know. You don't know that. You could be the person to help me, like how I help you. Teach me that I can let it all go. Let him go."