Reyin touched my face. His smooth fingers explored every detail as though it could forge into his memory all the ways I had changed since we were boys.
I should not be here.
I dipped my head closer, pressing it against his stomach to give him more of me. Wildfire spread throughout my cold body from the heat his fingers gave.
I'm lying to him.
His touch reminded me of his mother's. She had been more affectionate toward me than my own. Brushing my hair. Dressing me. Dabbing food spills away from my lips because I had eaten too quickly trying to keep up with Reyin's pace. I believed she might have even loved me more than my mother did. And Reyin loved me more than them both.
I do not deserve him.
