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368 pages, Hardcover
First published April 2, 2024
A marble boy, mired in his own personal mausoleum. Her starved god. Her secret saint. Her killer.
The feel in her chest was that of stitches ripped clean. There, beneath her bones, was a wound she thought she'd healed.
He withdrew his hand, flexing out his fingers as if it hurt him to touch her. She hoped it did. She hoped it shattered him the way it shattered her.
"There's a Welsh word I learned in school," said James. "Hiraeth. There's no direct translation for it in the English language, but it means a deep longing for a home you can never return to."