Six Sentence Sunday
From Interlude IV of The Place Where I Belong.
Thinking about Hawke was uncomfortable on its own too, and not just because of what he would be giving up in her presence, were she to return.
He'd be lying if he said Anders was the only one whose mind she crossed. Memories of her kiss occasionally resurfaced unbidden: flashes of smoky whiskey and spiced vanilla apple, soft lips and aching silence and every inch of space in between filled with all of the things he didn't want them to have in common.
He couldn't hate her then, and he couldn't hate her now. What he did hate was how much time he spent wondering if she were alright. If she were still alive, if she were happy, if she had moved on from them both into a new life that wasn't so hopelessly twisted and complicated as the messes they'd all made of their own.
This chapter interlude will post this upcoming Friday. βΊοΈ
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