“Of course you care. Everyone cares about the kicked puppy.” I shift, about to ready myself to leave, when Derek’s big hand circles my wrist. His grip is soft, but his gaze is steady. “Not like a puppy, Xander. You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for.” He lets go suddenly and nods, but I’ve swallowed my damn tongue. That actually sounded … genuine. “I’m going to set up,” he says. “I’ll probably see you around … but I hope not.”
