Conal's arm stiffened on my shoulder and I peeked at him. His jaw was clenched, his eyes hard. “I'm sorry. I know this isn't what you want to hear.”
“You know he's dead?” he said abruptly. Seeing my startled look, he swore under his breath. “I know, I know. He walks and talks and pretends to breathe and all, but he's dead,” he said, bitterness in his tone. “And I'm alive, and breathing, and wanting you so badly that I ache when I hear you crying during the night.”
I blinked back tears, trying to find the right words to say. I wanted to make him feel better, but didn't know if I had the power to do it. “Conal—” I paused, trying to figure out what to say. “I do like you. I think a part of me loves you, a little bit. I'm just not sure there's enough of my heart left to give you. I don't thi
