Bree
Being in Gage’s arms felt even better than I could have ever imagined. It wasn’t just a hug—it was like he was holding on to me in a way that kept the broken pieces of me from falling apart again. His arms were solid, warm, steady, like he was silently promising to keep me safe from every hurt in the world. He held me as if he could shield me from all the sharp edges, as if he could make sure that nothing bad ever touched me again.
Normally, I didn’t consider myself to have what you’d call daddy issues, but standing there in his embrace, I couldn’t help the comparisons creeping in. They were both so strong, both carried themselves with that quiet determination, and both seemed to have this way of always looking toward the light, even when the weight they carried should have crushed
