After two solid weeks of waking up in Damen's bed, wrapped in Damen's arms, you'd think I'd have grown used to it by now.
But nope.
Not even close.
Though I could get used to it.
I'd like to get used to it.

He stops in his tracks, face expressing major disappointment. "Wait - seriously? That's it? We don't get to do a stealthy tiptoe as we slip around back? No sneaking through a cracked window, or arguing over who gets to crawl through the dogie door to let the other one in?

Soundlessly whispering into the void, my lips moving quickly, silently, without ceasing. Calling his name, calling him to me.
Even though there's no use.
Even though it's futile.
Even though it's way past too late.

Deep down inside, my heart knew the score.
And I know that Haven was wrong.
It's not always a case of one loving more than the other.
When two people are truly meant to be, they love equally.
Differently - but still equal.

I guess by now I should know enough about loss to realize that you never really stop missing someone-you just learn to live around the huge gaping hole of their absence.

And I start to say, no.
Start to ask him to please just take it off and put it away.
Start to explain how it holds far too many memories for me.
But then I remember what Damen said once about memories - that they're haunting things.
And because I refuse to be haunted by mine - I just take a deep breath and smile when I say, "You know, I think it looks really good on you. You should defiantly keep it.