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already passed her own legacy. She’d been endlessly trying to
pay him back for his kindness, for how she felt that she’d
never been enough, but she’d also been punishing herself for
years. She was ready to see it and admit it, no matter how hard
that was.
She felt like a glass vase that had been on the shelf, lonely
and admired for years, but then a strong breeze had come and
upended it, sending it crashing to the floor, shattering into a
bunch of pieces. She was in pieces before Pierre died. They
both knew that. He’d loved her anyway, and that made it all
the worse for her. She’d been trying to pay him back for
something he didn’t want to be paid back for, even when he
was still living. She’d made her life a shrine to her mistakes
and past choices instead of moving forward and making new
choices and being real with herself and everyone else.
She was in pieces when she went to Vegas, and honestly, the
night she’d spent with Cassia felt like the first time anyone had
offered to take those bits and attempt to glue them back
together.
She hadn’t resisted because it felt good. It felt so
wonderfully, incredibly good.
She certainly hadn’t tried to resist the night before. She’d
made the effort, and when Cassia had dispensed with her
protests, she’d given in with remarkable ease.
Adalynn felt like she’d been shaken hard, like all those
pieces of herself she’d hoped to glue together weren’t made
back into a vase, but ground into dust to be transformed into
something else entirely. She wasn’t freaking ready for that.
She was someone else on the inside, while on the outside, the
old exterior remained. No one could see the emotion, the
