“Seems to be worse on your left side from what I’ve noticed?” Her warm, soft fingers brush the back of my neck. I flinch at her touch. “Is it sensitive?” Her voice is laced with concern. “No,” I snap, annoyed with myself for reacting the way I am. She’s just a woman—no, a professional massage therapist giving me a neck massage. Nothing to get freaked out about. “I see,” she says softly. What does she see? That she’s the first woman who’s not related to me that I’ve allowed to touch my skin in over two years? “It’s just a stiff neck.” “I know. Just give me five minutes, and even if it doesn’t
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