Chale Cheney saw Jasmine Yale looking at him and felt embarrassed, covering his face.
"Why is Jasy staring at the baby..."
Only then did Jasmine Yale realize and rubbed his head, her voice very gentle, "Because you're beautiful."
No matter how she looked, it was never enough.
Probably because Jasmine Yale was too gentle, Chale Cheney felt even shyer.
No one was nicer to him than Jasy; he wished he could be with Jasy every day.
Jasmine Yale squatted down, her fair fingers sliding across his cheek, tracing the contours of his face.
The little guy was five years old.
If her child had still been alive, they too would have been a preemie, born on the same day, and also five years old.
Ha...
Also five years old.
Sylvan Cheney, you bloody bastard.
Jasmine Yale squatted in front of Chale Cheney, looking at him non-stop, with warmth in her palm like the spring breeze through willows.
