"You have a limp."
When I turned around, I saw Rogan leaned against the doorway with his arms folded and his hawk-like eyes staring at me.
As I attempted to modify the ice pack, I dismissed the pain in my side and answered, "I'm fine."
He pushed off the frame and took a few big steps to get closer to me. "Ava, you just put up a fierce fight outside. Don't pretend you're alright when you're obviously not.
I was about to argue when I looked up at him, but I was stopped by the intensity of his eyes. It was something more tender and unadulterated than rage. Worry.
"I've had worse," I said, turning my head away.
Speaking in a softer tone, he stated, "That's not the point." "There shouldn't have been any fighting between you. Not for this pack, not for me.
Unspoken meaning weighed heavily
