❝ –– perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. and when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. and suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.
“It’s a good thing that I’m here, then,” Teddy smiled, confused, wondering what had brought it all on.
Jake gave her a weak smile and he brought Teddy close to him, wrapping his strong arms around her small figure, “Thank you for that, Teddy,” he whispered, putting her back against his chest. He kissed the back of her head tenderly and draped his arms over her middle.
“You don’t ever need to thank me for that,” Teddy breathed, curling into his warmth. Jake was the realest thing she’d had for a long time, her rubber ring in a stormy sea — she couldn’t even begin to imagine what she’d do without him, nor did she want to.
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