ERIC
She was already several steps ahead when I found my voice again.
“Sherry.”
She stopped but did not turn fully. The morning light caught the edge of her profile. She waited, giving me the chance to use the remaining distance or waste it.
I closed the space between us until I stood near enough to speak without raising my voice. The courtyard was still empty. The sounds of the pack house continued around us without interest in the two people standing near the low stone wall.
“Do you hate me?”
The question came out quieter than I intended. I had not planned to ask it. The words simply arrived once the larger apology had already been delivered and found insufficient.
Sherry turned the rest of the way. Her expression remained composed. There was no flash of old pain, no defensive edg
