Because nobody had looked angry for me ever.
“Hersh,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
His eyes lifted instantly.
Always instantly.
God.
That hurt.
“You’re doing it again,” I said quietly.
“What?”
“Looking at me like that.”
His brow furrowed slightly.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to fix everything.”
The entire room went still.
Michael suddenly became very interested in his coffee.
Trigger moved farther away on purpose.
Leaving us space.
Smart men.
Hersh held my gaze for one long second before answering quietly:
“Maybe I do.”
My chest physically hurt.
Because sixteen years disappeared from his voice when he said it.
I looked away first.
Couldn’t help it.
If I kept looking at him, I was going to break.
Michael cleared his throat softly. “Felicity, we should probably discuss moving you again.”
“No.”
The word came out immediately.
Firm.
Certain.
Everyone looked at me.
