The longer I knew Braxton, the less I understood her. “Let me go, Houston.” “Convince me that we understand each other.” “I told you what it would take,” she returned. “I don’t respect you, Braxton. I never will. You’re useful, but that doesn’t make you our equal.” For a moment, the little hope she held vanished from her big, round eyes. She looked lost and frustrated until that defiant gleam I hated so much returned tenfold. “Then what are we even talking about?”
