I sat on the edge of Rhys's bed and watched my world tilt sideways and did nothing to stop it.
Because what could I do? What was the plan – the plan I'd never made, the conversation I'd never prepared for, the exit strategy I'd never built because I was too busy tracing tattoos in the dark and pretending that love was a fortress when it was really just a house with no locks? I'd known this was coming. From the very first night – the bar, the bathroom, the stranger who turned out to be the one person on earth I couldn't have – I'd known that every choice I made was building toward a moment exactly like this one. And I'd made them anyway. Every single one. Eyes open, name known, consequences understood and willfully ignored because his hands on my skin felt more real than any future I could
