She watches the tension wondering if he even knows.
The way his shoulders turn rock hard. And his jaw tightens.

That cold, almost immediate need, to snap out at her for it.
Except in check. Except, what? She wonders. Because it's her?
Because she's allowed to walk on the broken glass and point it out now?



Because she's never tried to leave, or told him to stop.



Jo let the book rest back on her thighs again.

"That there was one. Not that it was for you."
And she tried not to twinge at her own tone.