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TWENTY-FIVE | BLURRED

We held hands as we walked down the high street, his palms cool and smooth against my own. I felt small beside him, but safe – his grip was strong, but not too tight, and I knew that even had I not been utterly capable of protecting myself, he would step in and rescue me. It was a heady, giddy sensation, and I found that I rather liked it.

My coffee cup was still hot in my other hand, but cooling rapidly as the darkness drew in above us. The glow of the lamps was warm, and the strings of fairy lights made the autumnal trees glow orange. Crisp, fallen leaves crunched beneath our feet.

“So,” Skye said, scuffing the toes of his shoes into the leaves, one by one as he took each step, “did you leave Hollowbridge because of – of what you are?”

It was an innocuous enough question, but I knew that it was a segue into a conversation I wasn’t sure I was ready to have. But as I gazed up at him, tall, broad, but leanly muscled, with a softness to his face, especially around his eyes and lips, I kn
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