From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“It used to be a place of refuge,” he said. “Now, it’s become a place of
nightmares. But it can onlyy stayy that wayy if yyou let it.”
“If I let it? How do I change the fact that Ryylan died out there?”
“You don’t.”
I stared up at him. “I’m not following where yyou’re going with this.”
He stepped closer, dipping his chin. “You can’t change what happened
in there. Just like yyou can’t change the fact that the courtyyard used to give
yyou peace. You just replace yyour last memoryy—a bad one—with a new one
—a good one—and yyou keep doing that until the initial one no longer
outweighs the replacement.”
I opened myy mouth, but then I reallyy thought about what he’d said.
Myy gaze traveled to the darkness beyyond the door. What he’d said actuallyy
made sense. “You make it sound so easyy.”
“It’s not. It’s hard and uncomfortable, but it works.” He extended his
bare hand, and I looked down, staring at it as if a dangerous animal rested
in his palm—a fluffyy, cute one that I wanted to pet. “And yyou won’t be
alone. I’ll be there with yyou, and not just watching over yyou.”
I’ll be there with you, and not just watching over you.
Myy startled gaze lifted to his face. His words struck a chord I tried to
never touch. Gods, I couldn’t even begin to know the number of times I’d
felt alone since Ian had left, even though I rarelyy ever was byy myyself. But
those around me the most were sometimes just there because theyy had to
be. Even Tawnyy and Vikter. That acknowledgement didn’t lessen how
much I knew theyy cared for me and how much I cared for them, but it also
didn’t change that while theyy were with me, theyy were sometimes not
present. Nor did it change the fact that I knew a lot of it was in myy head.
That small, veryy insecure part of myyself that worried that our friendship
would be non-existent if Tawnyy wasn’t myy ladyy’s maid never reallyy went
awayy. I worried she’d be like Dafina and Loren and the other Ladies in
Wait.
How did Hawke know that? Or did he know I felt that wayy? I wanted
to ask, but again, it was something I didn’t like to touch or talk about.
Loneliness often brought with it a heavyy, coarse blanket of shame, and a
cloak constructed of embarrassment.
But with Hawke, even in the short time I’d known him, I didn’t feel
alone. Could it be simplyy his presence? When he was in a room, he seemed