I’m sure the bandage wrapped around my head made it look worse than it was, and I considered taking it off when someone decided they needed to wash their hands in my sink. I knew from his scent, from the way he brushed up against me, and the warm timbre of his voice who it was. “Who did that to you?” Marshall asked. He shook the water from his hands and met my gaze in the mirror. “Who was it?” That hatred, the barely contained loathing, was in his eyes all right. It just wasn’t aimed at me.
