Love was not a word that Francesca used lightly. She had been in love once as a teenager, but she had never spoken about that after the young woman died at her father’s hands.
Jonas wanted to believe that she really meant it. He wanted to know that this woman he had been crazy about for years now loved him, too. But the way she had just whispered that so softly to him made him wonder whether it was an attempt to be manipulative and to control his emotions.
It had been an effective way to stop him talking about the injuries, at least.
“You shouldn’t say that if you don’t mean it. If you’re afraid that I will find someone else when we get to my old home I can assure you that isn’t going to be an issue.”
“That isn’t why I said that. I just… look, I know you think a lot of things about me
