It must have read in his face. Sullivan stood and neatly pushed his chair beneath the table, offering a shy version of the smile he’d shared before. “Whatever they all think out there, I don’t. I want you to know that.”
His sincerity chipped away at Rafe’s walls, hard enough to block out Mama’s voice in the back of his head saying this could all just be an act. He didn’t want it to be an act. He wanted Sullivan to be genuine. More than anything he’d wanted in a very long time.
“I believe you,” he said softly, and though it took conscious effort to do so, he held out a hand. He matched Sullivan’s smile when the other man folded his fingers around Rafe’s. “And whatever the truth is that brought you here, I’m glad of it.” 5