“But you smell of Casteel.” I jolted at the sound of his name. His real name. “I am wearing his shirt.” “That’s not the kind of smell I’m talking about.”
Naomyцитируетв прошлом году
Because Hawke wasn’t his name. And we hadn’t made love. He’d fucked me.
Naomyцитируетв прошлом году
“Was any of it true?”
Naomyцитируетв прошлом году
“Poppy. Stop—” “I hate you!”
Naomyцитируетв прошлом году
my head doesn’t…go quiet. It replays things over and over,”
Naomyцитируетв прошлом году
The pain and anger were still there. But Hawke was so warm, and his embrace was…gods, it felt like hope, like a promise that I wouldn’t always feel this way
Naomyцитируетв прошлом году
Sometimes remembering those who died means facing your own mortality,