I stick my hand out, palm up. Her gaze drops to the offering. “What am I supposed to do with that?” She doesn’t say the words with a single trace of heat, only genuine perplexity. I step in close, so that she’s got to lift her chin to maintain eye contact. “Take my hand, Holly.” Nose scrunching, her cheeks flush even brighter. “I’m sorry, but why should I? You demanded a confession and then you walked away. Holding hands is all about trust, and right now I’m thinking I’d trust a random person on the street more than—” I take her hand anyway, cutting off her rant by sliding my palm against
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