“Resent me all you like,” he said, damning the hoarseness of his words. “I’m sure I’ll survive.” Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Fine,” she said, her voice brittle. He hated that brittleness more than anything he’d ever encountered. Hated himself for causing it. But he had limits to how low he’d crawl. He’d said his piece. If she wanted to wash her hands of him forever, then he would find a way to respect that. Live with it. Somehow.
