His presence killed my humor quick because guilt sank its fangs into my gut and wouldn’t shake loose. Possibly, I had given him reason to think I felt strongly about him … in ways that led to kissing. Sneaking out to meet him, where we’d talked about our mutual misery and contemplated the idea of running away together—how I wished I had never done it. I should have stuck to sparring. Those nights felt like promises broken now. “These past few nights, your window has been latched,” he said softly. “What am I to take from that, dove?” I didn’t fear his anger, but I would regret losing his
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