Chapter 122: The Sketches

Clayton tried to give her the space she seemed to want. He didn't pull her into his arms and try to shield her from the pain of her memories, even though he desperately wanted to. His real goal was just to be there for her, so that she knew that she wasn't alone. So instead, he resigned himself to the occasional supportive touch, just to remind her that he was nearby if she needed him. It didn't take long before her ragged breathing and hopeless sobs had calmed, replaced by the sound of slow, steady breaths of sleep. Clayton was consumed by his own thoughts though. Why had Camden asked him if he had ever killed a man? Was she implying that she had? Was she looking for common ground? He was more desperate now than ever to know what had happened to her. If she had killed someone, what were the circumstances? Was it self-defense? Was it murder? Had she been assaulted? His mind swirled with possibilities that did nothing but torment him and keep him awake as he ran through all the potentia