Cross’s words hung in the air, heavy with concern. His eyes searched mine, pleading for an answer, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak. The lump in my throat was too large, the shame too overwhelming. I hated myself for letting it get this far, for being so consumed by feelings I shouldn’t have had in the first place.
“I’m fine,” I finally managed to whisper, my voice breaking despite my best effort to sound composed.
“Fine?” Cross repeated, his tone a mix of disbelief and frustration. “You’re bleeding, Nora. This isn’t fine.”
He reached for my hand again, but I pulled away, hugging it to my chest as if shielding myself from him. His proximity was too much. The scent of him, the warmth of him—it made me want to crumble. I didn’t want him to see me like this, didn’t want him to think I
