When God created Caleb, his hand slipped and poured in the entire stock of “yearning”

It’s the way his hand goes to cover her lips, as if it’s the only thing keeping him sane lest he crosses the line the moment he leans in, the way his eyes search hers looking for something, the way realization settles back in, making him pause before retreating…

And the way he looks at her, I’m melting.