“Don’t,” I warn him, frowning. “Don’t apologize for what they did to you.” “To us,” he corrects softly. A sharp pain prickles through my chest at the words. Carefully, I reach out and wrap my fingers around his wrist, squeezing gently, before letting go and returning my hand to my lap. Exposure therapy, the doctor called it—well, I hope Max is ready for me to practice on him all summer. Maybe if I grab him enough, I’ll be able to get laid without any complications in the future.
