that. I have all these other moving parts that make me whole.
 
 You’re the one who made me feel like that was real. You’re
 
 the one who made me see it.”
 
 She wanted to surge forward and pin Coralyn against the
 
 door. Tumble into her apartment and slam it shut and hold her
 
 there like she’d held her against the wall. She wanted to hug
 
 her, curling into her to protect her. She wanted to trail hot
 
 kisses down the length of her body, pressing each one into her
 
 silky skin, into her pulse, her heart, her lips where her breath
 
 spilled, until she could taste the desperation and the honesty
 
 and everything that Giana didn’t know how to put into words.
 
 She kept still, allowing the silence, allowing Coralyn time.
 
 Giana wished Coralyn would smile, even if it was sad. She
 
 wished her eyes would light up again, those summery blues
 
 that had entrenched themselves into her soul like fallen
 
 raindrops spattered onto wet concrete.
 
 The time I’ve spent with you has been the only time I’ve felt
 
 anything close to restfulness, gentleness, goodness, kindness,
 
 and peacefulness in the past twenty years.
 
 “I don’t want that for my life,” Coralyn whispered, and
 
 Giana’s heart sank. “The bitterness, I mean. I don’t want to be
 
 numb. I don’t want to turn to ice. I want to heal and be happy
 
 and live the way my parents would have wanted me to. I don’t
 
 want to use their deaths to fall into bitterness and emptiness.”
 
 “You think that’s how I wanted to live?” It was an honest
 
 question, with no accusation behind it.
 
 Coralyn winced anyway. “I think that it really is a choice,
 
 and I know you don’t like the therapy talk, but I really think
 
 we make ourselves who we are going forward. But that’s also
 
 easy for me to say because the things that happened to me