“Don’t what? Tell you that I was wrong? That you’re everything I thought you weren’t? Big-hearted and generous and smart as hell and, yeah, fuckin’ beautiful? Sexy as hell?” Cash’s eyes graze my face. “Tell me to go, then. Tell me to let you go, and I will. But you gotta say the words, honey, or—” “Or what?” I blame him calling me honey for this sudden burst of bravery. “You’ll give me what Palmer couldn’t?” His eyes flicker. “You’re such a brat.” “Yeah, well, you’re a brute.” “I am.” His gaze is pleading.
