was just as shocked by Dad’s statement. Looking down at our hands, my gaze traveled up Graeme’s arm to his face. From the faint pink in his cheeks and the way he glanced down before looking up again, I knew it was true. He loved me. He fucking loved me. I didn’t know how. Frankly, I didn’t know why. But he did. The inevitable question was — did I love him? Underneath all of the hate and anger and stupid lust, was there something else? Was it love that made my blood come alive? Love that made the knot in my chest loosen whenever he was around? I had no fucking clue. I’d never loved anyone
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