“I’m sorry,” he said. His green eyes burned in the reflection of the dim light. His arms were tense at his sides, the muscles drawn tight against his skin.
“Sorry for what?” I asked.
“I can’t… I don’t know how to explain.”
He stared at the mirror. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was looking ahead into his own reflection with an accusatory stare.
“Does this have to do with your family?” I asked softly. I wanted to know. I needed to know. And at the same time, I was scared to ask. Scared that he might not let me into his private life. Scared that he would.
“What do you know about them?” I shook my head slightly.
“Nothing. Lucas mentioned it. When we were at the restaurant. He said I should ask you about it.”
A long, dreadful pause followed.
“My family is dead,” he
