Love is Hell; Mate is Heaven
“You have to stop looking like a ghost. Luna thinks you are homesick.”
“I am not homesick,” I said. “I am fine.”
“You are a storm,” she said. “A quiet one, which is worse.”
“I am fine,” I said again, softer. “I made a choice.”
We walked the path around the fountain. The water lifted and fell like a steady breath. I watched it until my shoulders eased.
“You could talk to me,” Wendy tried. “Whatever this is.”
“Not today.”
She nodded, but she looked at me like she knew a piece anyway.