“It was never… He’s not like that,” I try to explain. “Not like what?” Danil asks. “Because, fuck, Lucky-boy, if I weren’t concerned about you stabbing me for the suggestion, I’d be begging to join you up that mountain.” I groan, scrubbing my hands over my eyes. “Stop, please.” “See? That,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger my way. “You feel some way about him.”
