“Tavish.” Aaron repeated Sloane’s last name back to her, then paused, like his mouth had gone dry. “My father had a friend once,” he continued softly. “Her name was Margot Tavish.” “I have to go.” Sloane bolted to her feet. She was trembling. “I have to go now.” “Please,” Aaron said. “Sloane. Don’t go.” “I have to,” Sloane whispered. “I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to tell.” She wanted him to like her. Even panicked, even trying to get away from him, she wanted him to like her so badly that I could feel it. “We have the same eyes,” Aaron told her. “They call them Shaw blue, did
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