Damn those piercing green eyes. The woman sees everything.
I roll off her and sit on the edge of the bed.
She sits up, too, but she’s not looking at my face anymore. She’s looking at my bare back. “Liam,” she whispers. “God. What happened to you?” Life tried to kill me, but I didn’t die.
I only wish I did.
She’ll need some kind of explanation to satisfy her curiosity, but I’ll be damned if I’ll share all my ugly stories of how I got from point A to point B. It would make her sick. And it would take too long, anyway. And it doesn’t really matter.
I am what I am, no matter how I got this way.
My voice comes out flat. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”
“Oh, believe me, what I’m feeling for you right now isn’t pity.”
Her voice has an edge to it. When I glance at her, she skewers me with a look
