AUSTIN
I was lying in bed, my arms wrapped around Shane's slender and exquisite body. She looked at me intently, as if something was troubling her.
“Austin, can I ask you something?” she asked, watching me cautiously.
“What?” I replied, not understanding her nervousness.
“Why don't you want to talk about your father?” she asked, and an intense pain gripped my chest. I looked at her coldly. I didn’t want to talk about it. It hurt every time I did.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said dryly.
“Why? I’d like to know. I want to know everything about you,” she murmured, her eyes wide with innocence. But I couldn't tell her anything. I couldn’t talk about it because the pain consumed me inside.
“You don’t need to know,” I replied sharply. She looked at me with disappointment, but I had
