She didn't. But when hasn't she gone against her own instincts to trust him? It served her well enough with a knife or an upper cut--shouldn't it serve well enough in her emotional life?
"Still. I don't like to be a bother." One shoulder lifts, her arms pulling slightly around her own stomach. "No one always wants to talk."
Smashing walnuts and reading about childhood trauma until I am coherenter again.
She didn't. But when hasn't she gone against her own instincts to trust him? It served her well enough with a knife or an upper cut--shouldn't it serve well enough in her emotional life?
"Still. I don't like to be a bother." One shoulder lifts, her arms pulling slightly around her own stomach. "No one always wants to talk."