RHYS’ POV
The door closed. I looked at my hands.
Same hands. Same knuckles. A few hours ago they'd held her face in the shower like something I'd ruin if I squeezed too hard. Now they'd proved me right.
Stop.
Her voice. Flat. Careful. The voice of a woman who'd practiced being calm around dangerous men.
Ten steps. That's how far I got before my legs went. Back against the wall. Floor. Elbows on knees. Hands in front of me, palms up, because I couldn't let them close. If they closed they'd become what they were in that room. What they'd been on the ice. What they'd been my whole life when I stopped paying attention.
I stayed.
Not a decision. Couldn't move. Couldn't text her. Couldn't go home to an apartment that would be dark and quiet and full of the shower where I'd held her like s
