“Everything,” Rafe said simply.
Rafe lifted his beer again, as though that was the end of the conversation, and that was enough for Lyle to lose any shred of patience he might have had. He practically jumped to where Rafe was sitting and grabbed the beer out of Rafe’s hand with a desperate snatch. He didn’t need a mirror to know that the expression on his face was fierce—it was written all over Rafe’s face. Fear, surprise, worry. “Look—”
“Okay!” Rafe pulled his legs up and shimmied away until his back was against the headboard. “It’s just…well, it’s not just embarrassment, but it kind of is, too. I’ve…” He bit his lip. His frown deepened. “First off, I have to say that you use the words ‘fate’ and ‘destiny’ as though they’re interchangeable. They’re not. Fate occurs despite our choices.
