with the fingers of one hand splayed toward her like the stems of flowers reaching for the sun. He searched Melanie’s face with distrust in his eyes but sorrow in the pull of his mouth.
Tilly walked straight into Melanie’s arms and entwined her fingers in her hair. Melanie clutched her to her chest, and she could hear her pulse in her neck, feel the thump of her heart against her breast. For a moment her eyes went wide and wild, and Brent’s outstretched hand became a fist.
Her lungs were screaming now, but she ignored them and bit down hard on her lip, concentrating on Tilly’s warmth, the tickle of her hair, not the blood in her veins. Her st...
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