It’s a shield, it's covering something inside which I would love to explore but" he murmured. "You’re trying to disappear."
"I'm just living my life," Cathy whispered. "I’m not a project for you or Iris."
Michael let go of the fabric. His hand dropped, but he didn't move back. He was close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his dark irises. The silence between them wasn't empty; it was thick, charged with a strange, frantic energy that Cathy didn't know how to name.
"I didn't say you were any projects," Michael said softly. "I just said what I observed. And what I see is someone who’s terrified of being seen."
"I'm not terrified of you," Cathy said, her voice firmer than she felt.
Michael laughed, a short, dry sound. "You should be. Not because of me, but because of what
