8
Kyra didn’t know how long they’d lay together, watching the sky and not talking. Long enough that her heart had raced miles but finally calmed. Long enough that the moon was hiding somewhere beyond the canvas of shadowy leaves.
“We should be careful,” she said to the sky. “People will talk.”
A breeze swept between them, and he covered her hand with his. He held their joined hands up against the sky and squeezed.
“Maybe I don’t care,” he replied.
It wasn’t much, but something in his voice struck a chord within her. She blinked, and a single tear escaped her lashes. She wasn’t usually so frail, but in the back of her mind, every moment with him could be the last. There was nothing wrong with her trying to hold onto it with every ounce of her strength.
“Promise me that when I’m gone,
