45
Finn had slept on top of the covers next to me. He’d tried to sleep on the floor beside the fire, but given the bruise growing on his cheek, I’d insisted he rest somewhere soft.
I woke before he did in the morning and lay in bed, fingers wrapped around the pendant on my neck.
Part of me cherished it, a bit of Liam that was mine even if I couldn’t have him. Part of me wanted to throw it out the window as a first step in shedding all thoughts of how badly I wished he were lying in bed beside me.
But I’d slept through the night, and that was a gift even the horrible mixture of shame, hurt, and longing that buried me couldn’t convince me to toss aside.
The sounds of movement on the street below began just after dawn. The rattle of cart wheels fighting through mud and mumble of sleepy v
