Collin Tanner
"Don't," I said, my voice cutting sharply through the dim hallway.
I clamped my hands into tight fists inside my pockets. My pulse was hammering against my ribs, but I kept my posture stiff, refusing to let him see how much his words rattled me.
"Don't do this, Zander. I don't want your excuses. It’s been four years. You don't get to pull me into a late-night confession just because you're feeling guilty."
Zander took a slow step toward the doorway, the amber light from the fireplace catching the raw, exhausted lines etched into his face.
"I’m not trying to excuse what happened, Collin," he said, his voice dropping into a low, quiet tremor. "I’m not asking you to forgive me. But if we’re standing in the same house again, you deserve to know what actually happened."
I le
