I knocked on the study door.
Edward was wearing rimless glasses. Behind them, his usually gentle features looked sharper and more distant.
I studied him for two seconds and suddenly wondered whether I had been wrong about him all along.
I had always thought Edward was gentle, rigid, and hopelessly obedient to rules.
"Edward, give me your phone."
He paused, then handed it over without argument.
My fingerprint unlocked it immediately.
As he adjusted his glasses, I caught a faint scent of cedar smoke on him.
Edward had erased almost every sign of what he had done, except for one photograph of me in his camera roll.
Vincent and I had still been poor then.
Someone had broken his leg, and I had carried him toward the hospital one painful step at a time.
My white ballet flats were yell
