But, as always, Asher surprises me. He opens the door, takes one look at me and just… smiles. It must take him a second for his brain to catch up to what he’s seeing, because when he notices my busted-up face and torn clothes, his expression morphs into one of obvious concern. His breath hurtles out of him in a shaky rush, a choked sound leaving his throat. “I’m sorry,” I whisper hoarsely. “I didn’t know where else to go.” He stares at me, not saying a word for a full minute, just roves his eyes all over me like he’s mentally cataloging my injuries. Then he looks away, collects himself and
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