Sanity intruded, reminding him of his decision to put distance between them. The sight of the woman lingering where Sybil had been reaffirmed that decision. Her eyes lingered on him, skittered away, then returned, something that was revulsion and curiosity and disgust dancing in her gaze before she finally made a quick retreat, moving in the opposite direction. He’d never expected to be able to hide what had happened if he had to come forward. He’d never planned to, not really. He was tired of living behind masks and secrets. The shame, a familiar, ugly burr under his skin, would never fade, but the logical part of him understood that the shame didn’t really belong to him. If a bitch like Leslie Mayer wanted to look at him like that, that was her problem. Although it pissed him off that she’d upset Sybil. All the more reason to stay away from her. All the more reason. It would make it easier for her, in the end. That nebulous end … Lately, he’d been thinking about it, like there really was an end for him.
