February
In a world where love often feels like a winding road, February thought she'd found her destination with Arlo. But a hidden pile of letters, penned to another, shatters her illusion. Now, as Arlo lies injured, February faces a heart-wrenching choice: stay by the man who can't love her completely, or find her own path to healing. Will she be the balm to his wounds, or will she finally realize she deserves a love that's wildfire, not just gentle rain?
The hospital smelled like bleach and sleep. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like they were whispering things I didn't want to hear.
I stepped into his room with his favorite hoodie folded under my arm and that stupid cinnamon lip balm in my pocket. My fingers were shaking, but I kept moving, step by step, like the floor might fall out from under me if I stopped.
Arlo was awake.
Barely. He looked pale and wrecked, bandages crisscrossing his forehead and arms, dark bruises blooming beneath the thin skin at his collarbone. His eyes fluttered open as I approached, lashes sticky and slow. When he saw me, something in his face softened. "Hey, Babe" he rasped, voice dry and cracked.
