His grasp of her is so tenuous. It frightens him how quickly he could lose everything. Her smile. Her touch. The silky strands of white running through her hair.

What he had with Bella was so certain, so sure. But this is entirely on his own merits.

Those merits never included trust.

He finds he can’t stop touching her, can’t stop holding her, can’t stop finding reasons to keep her near. If only to prove to himself that what he grasps is real and lasting.

He’s all too afraid he’ll wake up and it will all have been a dream.