FORTY-SEVEN | SUNSET

A coarse wind howled outside, but it was drowned out by Harper’s abrupt, gut-wrenching sobs. I’d expected tears, but this was worse; guttural, world-ending tremors that wracked his body. I held him tight in my arms, fearful that he might splinter across our old, worn sofa.

The firelight felt less dangerous, now. It was just firelight, and I was just a girl. The room opened up, warm in its familiarity, and as I tucked Harper’s head beneath my chin I felt wholly at home. Perhaps it was strange, to feel so welcome in the face of such anguish, but it felt as though, at long last, my life was beginning to align. Harper’s, too, though he did not know it yet.

I’d had time to process this decision. He had not.

His lips quivered as he rose from my embrace, but his eyes held mine with a strength I had not anticipated, but was grateful for. I loved him; crushing his spirit had never been my inten