Precious Meaning: Something rare, of great value; not to be wasted or treated carelessly. Greatly loved and treasured by someone. That's what he called me. The thing is, I didn't feel precious. I wasn't precious. And these were the reasons why... 1. I lived with a constant fear of the day I'd have to explain to my baby boy the only reason I'd become his mother was that I'd taken someone's life. 2. Although I made sure I supported Victoria and her secrets on a daily basis, because you know, at no point does a girl want to be run over by car not wearing matching undies; I was not a girl open to embracing the attraction his green eyes, kiss-me-breathless lips and his alpha you're-mine-you-just-haven't accepted-it-yet-persona emitted in me. 3. Love and relationships were not for me. Not for the girl whose heart stopped feeling and just did the basic duty of beating behind her breastbone. That tended to happen when your son's biologically father watched his brother take you by force. So then, what do you do when love is ready for you? Do you run in the other direction? Do you fight it? Or do you run to it and let it heal you?