Somewhere in there, the fire in my bitterness sputters and dies. The sensation is strange, because it’s what kept me going when nothing else would, and without it I feel naked in the worst way. Soft and vulnerable and more fragile than glass.
Yesterday I’d wondered what it would take to grant me my epiphany to change. I guess Ethan baring his soul in an e-mail did the trick.
One of Tristan’s favorite sayings is, “Be the change you want to see.” I guess that’s what Holt’s done. He’s made himself strong enough for both of us.
My hands tremble as I send him a text.
<I need to see you.>
I’ve barely pressed send when there’s a knock at the door.