He was right in front of me now, his eyes full of swirling eather. “Then you have to know that what you ask of me is to do exactly what you say you cannot do—what I’ve already had to do my entire life. To live while knowing I’ve left others behind to suffer and die in unimaginable ways. To live when I’m already dead inside.” I drew back. “You’re not dead inside.” “You really think that?” He laughed, and it was icy. Smoky. “Even had I never had my kardia removed, I wouldn’t be capable of love. Not after what I’ve had to do. What I’ve allowed. That alone would have left me unworthy of
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