“Not even close.” However, I can admit to myself how good it feels just to be in her presence. Hearing her sweet voice, even when there's a note of sarcasm winding its way through her words like an invisible thread. Anything, so long as I can look at her, speak to her, connect with her, even on a simple level like this. I'd say damn near anything for her to keep talking.“And you're not just saying that because I was crying?” An interesting use of past tense, considering there are still tears cutting a slow path down her cheeks. She pulls one of the sleeves of her sweater down over her fist and uses it to mop up the wetness.“What do you want me to say, Caterina? I'm trying. For you, I'm trying.”She releases a shuddering breath, turning her face toward the headstone bearing her mother's name. “I know.”I could double down now while she's quiet and accepting. I could drill into her head the importance of her safety and how I don't trust my enemies to lay low for long. What could have
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