You’re stuck,” I blurted, his grin died and he blinked.
“Come again?”
I swallowed, sucked in breath and forged ahead.
“I was lost but you… Tate, you got stuck,” I told him.
He stared at me and it took a lot but I braved his stare.
Then he asked, “You up for the job of pullin’ me out?”
“I…” I swallowed again. “No,” I answered truthfully.
“No?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting, his face getting dark, his arms
growing tighter.
“I…” I pulled in breath then whispered, “I kinda like it here.

God gave us a variety of ways to get hurt out and do it clean. Blood cleans a wound. Tears clean a different kind of wound. You might not like it, Frannie, but you shouldn’t stop yourself from doing it. Clean the wound so it can heal. Then move on.

Hold on tight, Cherie

She stared.
Then she busted out laughing.
And that was it.
All that he needed.
Cher was laughing.
Garett was calm.

Go to him, Sweet Pea.

You're cute in the morning," he told me.

"I am?" I asked.

"Cute and sweet."

"Mm," I mumbled, glad he thought that but I'd always been a morning person. I was a night person too. I was an anytime person when I wasn't stressy and in a bad mood.

One of his hands left my back and I watched his eyes get heated and intense as they studied my face.

Then he did something beautiful, something amazing, something that, if I'd had any doubts as to my certainty, they would have disintegrated.

He tenderly slid the backs of his knuckles against the skin of my cheek while he muttered, "A year and a half. Totally fuckin' missed out.