Just Michael, how grateful I was that he was alive, how much I wanted to touch him. How much I wanted him to touch me.

He kept his eyes on the activity outside. "Emerson, you can't look at me like that. Not right now."

"How do you know I'm looking at you?"

"I can feel it." He smiled. I couldn't see it, but I could hear it in his voice. He hooked one arm around my neck and gently pulled me to his side.

Auteur: Myra McEntire