Chapter 88
He wasn’t sure he was good at it yet. But he was working on it. He’d keep trying. Forever
Colby sighed. “She said…well, what you’ve just said. That it’s all right to be not all right, especially after being hurt. Healing, like any other kind of healing. I know it’s not easy. I just hate the thought of making your life harder.”
“You’re not.” He squeezed those fingers more. “You don’t. Better. My life. With you.”
The crowd had gathered outside the store entrance. Colby, who might’ve been able to handle that—he’d been tense but resolute, haunted but a damn good actor—had watched the swell with the ghosts of unwelcome touch, unwanted bodies too close, intimate space violated and an ex’s laughter about lack of consent, all present in those wide blue eyes.
The store manager, who did not know those stories, had come up. Had put a hand on Colby’s shoulder: getting attention.
Colby had flinched. Jerked back. Nearly collided with a display of canned beans.