She feels the weight of his gaze and it makes her breath grow thick in her throat.

She looks up into his eyes, those amazing blue eyes, and she wants to tell him all of it. About Sam and the book, about the Prices, about Summers and the roses, about Molly. She wants to tell him who she is, really. She wants to share the burden with him.

She looks into his face, and the words won't come. The headache behind her eyes reasserts itself with a vengeance, the fine lines of tension wrinkling her brow, deepening the creases around her eyes.