"Shannon..." Felix knew he couldn't say the words, arrested in his throat by a lifetime of proof that his love was unworthy, unwanted, and insufficient. It was like a curse, feeling this way about anyone: twisted, mutilated, and turned to ash. If Felix didn't speak it aloud, perhaps it couldn't curse Shannon.

He rested his forehead on Shannon's shoulder, hating that something other people found so simple became so ugly and misshapen inside him.