He was there.
Everywhere.
Taking. Giving. Offering. Sacrificing.
Remember, Little Bird?
Remember what it felt like?
Exhaling shakily, I open my eyes and stare down at the ultimate plot twist in a story that’s taken nine years to develop. Nostrils twitching with oncoming emotion, I lick my chapped lips and let the metallic taste bring me back to reality.
“I remember,” I choke out, curling up on my side and cradling my barely-there stomach, all while wondering if the baby will have his eyes or mine.
My agent calls.
I let it go to voicemail.
To be continued in Where the Little Birds Are…