My heart cracks softly. From the realization that he actually believes what he’s saying.
That he’s looked at himself in the mirror and decided he’s irredeemable. That the only kindness he can offer me is pushing me away.
But I see something else in those intense blue eyes. Vulnerability disguised as warning. Truth wrapped in self-hatred.
A man who considers himself a monster because he lost control once in the worst possible circumstances.
I take his hand—the one cupping my face, the one that killed—and pull it away from my jaw. Hold it between both of mine. Press my lips to his palm, then his knuckles, then each finger.
“These are the same hands that saved me,” I whisper against his skin. “The same hands that pulled me out of a marriage that was killing me slowly. I don’t like to adm
