His chest heaved violently, his gaze darting back and forth between Abby and me.
When it finally settled on me, it was twisted with a struggle so raw it looked almost painful.
"Trina." His voice was hoarse, his eyes rimmed red. "After all these years, can you really not sense even a shred of how I felt about you all these years?"
Those words were a key, shoving open the floodgates of memory before I could even brace myself.
I saw him, bumbling and nervous, confessing to me under a sky full of stars.
I saw him, eyes red and puffy, holding me tight right after my parents died, whispering, "Don't be scared. I'm here."
I saw a thousand tiny moments: him making me breakfast with his own two hands, remembering every single little thing I liked and disliked. Once, those little details had
