Carissa Broadbent

“Because if I allow myself to be angry, I will never stop.”

He leaned closer. So close his nose brushed mine, so close I could count his eyelashes. And so close that I felt his warm breath across my face as he smiled and said, with the viciousness of smoke and steel, “Good.”

“So many mistakes in the end,” he choked out. “Never you.”

“You have nothing but me,” I said. “And yet, you’d let me go?”

“I have nothing but you,” he murmured. “So I am letting you go.”