Tess remembered the time Lanse waited in the infirmary for her to wake up. But she could never do that for him. Why would she, when she didn't care about him? Right?
She remembered the quiet mornings they spent together in the garden gazebo during their brief, tangled romance. Those moments lived in a part of her mind no one had access to. Her mind was sealed—safe. A vault for secrets she'd never speak aloud.
Drawn by nostalgia or something more dangerous, she wandered back to the gazebo.
As she entered, the memories overwhelmed her.
She imagined him walking up from behind, that sneaky, knowing smirk on his face. The image made her smile, her cheek actually aching from the vividness of it. She quickly reminded herself—it wasn't real. Just her imagination. It had to be a version of Lanse who still didn't know her secret. The real Lanse would never look at her that way again. Not after what he knew. How could anyone care about a monster like her?
