Malum’s jaw closed with a click, and he looked away from me. Pink stained the tops of his cheekbones, and he fisted his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Pain scoured my chest like I’d been stabbed. I expected it, but still. Wow. Disappointment washed over me because he was so predictable. So much for him saying he was sorry. So much for him washing my hair in the shower. So much for holding my hand as I lay limp in pain. So much for pretending he was different. So much for taking care of me. Men were all the same. Empty. Promises. I slammed my shoulder into his as I walked past.
