“You didn’t come home last night,” I said quietly. “I stayed at work.” His jaw tightened. “Can’t sleep across a hall from you.” “I slept in your bed last night.” Conflict and confusion waged in his eyes. “Why?” I stood and moved toward him. “I don’t care about what happened in your past. It doesn’t matter to me. And if you think I would see you differently because of what happened to you as a child, or even what you might have done, you don’t know me at all.”
