" Wait!” Juliet pulls away from her father, and once again, she’s breathless and looking up at me. “Declan.”

I hold myself at a distance. The spell is broken. “Juliet.”

She closes that distance, though, and then does one better. She grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me forward. For half a second, my brain explodes because I think we’re going to have a movie moment and she’s going to kiss me. And then it’s going to be super awkward because of her father.

But no, she’s only pulling me close to whisper. Her breath is warm on my cheek, sweet and perfect.

“We were wrong,” she says. “You make your own path.”

Then she spins, grabs her father’s hand, and leaves me there in the middle of the cemetery. "

― Brigid Kemmerer , Letters to the Lost (Letters to the Lost, #1)