Will Trent — Angie

He did. He lowered himself onto the gritty linoleum across from her, his long legs folding awkwardly. They were a yard apart. The gulf of a lifetime.

"Of the part of me that can't walk away from you," he said. will trent angie

"Then walk," she whispered. "I double-dog dare you." He did

"You look tired," she said.

Will pulled out his handkerchief—crisp, white, absurdly neat—and gently began to clean the blood from her hands. He didn't say he loved her. That word was too small and too large all at once. Instead, he said the only thing that mattered in that room, at that hour. " he said. "Then walk