“If you were willing to endure a concussion and a few stitches just to keep me from going to my Lascivio party tonight, I could have accommodated you.”
He smiled. Once again it was forced—a nervous smile. The look someone has when a million thoughts run through their brain, crashing into each other.
“What’s wrong?” She rested her palm on his cheek, brushing her thumb over his stubbly chin.
“I need to tell you something.”
If she wouldn’t have known better—wouldn’t have known his iron-fisted personality, she would have thought the glassiness in his eyes was tears.
“O-kay. You’re scaring me … just say it.”
He nodded. The pain in his face conveyed the weight of his unspoken words. When he said them, his voice cracked and so did he. “Jillian … I love you.”
To be continued …