Chapter 8

I keep a close eye on him; a bead of sweat runs down the side of his face, the vertical lines between his eyebrows deepen into furrows. His hands are curled into fists, and he’s pale. Even his freckles seem to have lost some of their colors.

I want to ask him again if he’s sure he wants to go through with it, but I don’t want to insult him after he’s already given his assurances. He’s a grown man, and even if his cousin haddragged him into the shop against his will, she’s been out on that call for a long time now, so he could easily get up and walk out if he wanted to.

But he still sits here, watching everything I do. And underneath all the obvious fear, he still leans in toward me. He gets tenser with every passing second, but except for the nerves, everything tells me he still trusts me