Brandon's grip tightened. His voice was rough and hoarse. "I know this looks crazy, Abigail. I don't wanna bother you. I just wanna be here, watching out for you."
I pushed him away and sighed. "If you ask me, you should go see a therapist."
Brandon gave a bitter, self-mocking smile. "I do. I've been going ever since you left."
It didn't help, though. The doctor said he was trapped in a prison he'd built all by himself.
I froze for a second, then said nothing and walked away.
Brandon was strikingly handsome, with a quiet, polite manner.
A lot of the facility staff were curious about him.
One day, a cleaning nurse spotted him staring up at my window from the garden. She turned to me, curious. "That guy looks so sad. Who is he to you, Abigail?"
I thought about it for a second and sai
