But even worse was the guilt I felt toward Liam. I hadn't forced him, not technically, but in the heat of my breakdown, I had begged. I had used my vulnerability as a hook, and the thought that I had guilt-tripped him into crossing a professional and moral boundary made me feel sick. Maybe that’s why he’s gone, I thought, pulling the duvet tighter. He realized what happened and he couldn't get away fast enough.
I forced myself out of bed and into the shower, scrubbing my skin until it was pink, trying to wash away the lingering sensation of being someone I didn't recognize. I dressed quickly in another pair of soft pants and a clean shirt, bracing myself for the cold silence of the house.
But when I stepped back into the bedroom, Liam was there.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, a
