“You’re afraid of something,” he said. “Tell me what it is.” She bit down on her lip. Gideon wanted to close the gap between them, take her face in his hands, and tell her he’d protect her. But he held himself still. “You,” she whispered. “I’m afraid of you.” His heart sank like a stone. “Me?” She backed up a step. “The way you make me feel is …” She hugged the bundle of clothes tighter. “I’m afraid it’s something I could get used to. Something I could need.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid you’ll be the end of me, Gideon.” And then, much more quietly: “Maybe you already are.”
