Sam's POV
Saturday morning dawned, and he was miserable.
Sam had hoped that the cracked feeling in his sternum might fade. He had hoped that the hurt look that had crossed Ophelia's face for just a flash might be erased from his memory. Maybe he would even be blessed enough by the Goddess to forget her, but no such luck.
In fact, he could only sit and simmer in his sadness.
Doing his chores, everything felt heavier than it should. His shoulders seemed to sag under the weight of feed sacks. The straw from the stalls seemed to stick to the ground, impossible to shovel into the wheelbarrow.
Tearing his own heart out of his chest and handing it to her would have been easier. It would have been less painful, too.
He felt like a sailor without sea legs, trying to walk across the deck of a
