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someone else in. She’d always had to look after herself. She
didn’t really even know what love was. Pierre was patient with
her. He guided her, half the time like a father or a mentor, and
he knew that and was okay with it.
Others might have resented or even hated her for it, but not
Pierre. He’d taught her what peaceful, sweet, untiring love
looked like. He gave her time, nurtured her wounded,
untrusting, broken, fearful, tattered heart. The pang of that, of
all he had done, would always be with Cassia. She would
probably always regret that she couldn’t be exactly what Pierre
needed, that she couldn’t give him all of her, but the only thing
she could do was learn and make sure she didn’t repeat her
own mistakes.
This time, she was ready. She was ready to give those
mended, s
titched together, imperfect pieces of herself. She
knew Cassia could take them and turn them into something
beautiful that they could share together, and she’d give in
more than equal measure.
Cassia suddenly pulled back and giggled. Adalynn’s eyes
popped open and she stared at her suspiciously. “What’s so
hilarious?”
“Sorry,” Cassia squeezed out between giggles. “It’s just that
I had this mental picture of us fixing up the house together and
making it all crooked and lopsided so that everything looked
like those strange houses you always see in fairy tales.
Although, this one already seems too big. And definitely not
pointy enough.”
“Oh?” Adalynn arched a brow upwards. “We could make it
pointy if you wanted it to be pointy. Add some more turrets or
