







When I finally collapsed into bed, my phone lit up again. A message. But not from Sam. Ethan: You looked cold tonight. No context. No greeting. Just that. I stared at it so long the screen dimmed. I didn't know how he got my number. Didn't ask. Didn't respond either. I just held the phone in my hand and let the words sink into me. You looked cold. I shouldn't have texted him. I knew it the second my thumb hit send. But the way he looked out there-hunched on the back steps of the church like he was trying to disappear into his own sleeves-it did something to me. Not in a pity way. Not even a protective way. Just... a real way. You looked cold tonight. Stupid message. Simple. Too simple. But it was the only thing I could think to say that didn't sound like: Why do I keep thinking about you? Might do an playlist to this book if it is good enough
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