I sigh, feeling a hint of exhaustion creep in again. “Why any of it? Why me? Why Carson? What the fuck is going on?” Ryland’s face goes still for a moment. Then he lets out a heavy breath, reaching up to scrub a hand over his jaw. “I don’t think you know what you looked like that night, Ayla. The night you got shot. That fucking image will haunt me for the rest of my life.” His eyes go out of focus a little, like he’s seeing something I can’t, reliving a moment I’m not privy to. “It wasn’t the blood. It wasn’t even seeing someone die. That wasn’t new to me. It was the look on your face. You
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