“I’m hungry,” Damon said, reminding her he was still splayed out on the floor beneath her.
Why was he even here and not running as fast as he could away from her after she’d hurt him so terribly and so often? Why did he bother? It didn’t make sense.
He raised his eyebrows. “Because the last thing I ate was a sandwich yesterday noon. Plus you seriously zapped my energy last night.”
She huffed. “I meant why, after I’ve treated you like shit more times than I care to remember, you still care?”
When he just stared at her for a moment, she wondered if he was trying to come up with a lie.
He pushed himself up into a sitting position. Being so close to his serious face and intense eyes was frightening. She had never before been so vulnerable, not even with Ralph. Because with Damon she cared, and he had the power to rip her apart with mere words.
“Sometimes, when I look at you, you are so utterly sad. And it’s like you’re not even aware of it. It’s like you only let yourself feel anger and disgust because they’re your crutch and if someone took that away from you, you’d fall and shatter. You deserve to be loved, Anaïs.”
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