“I have two regrets from Halloween,” he tells me, his voice deep and harrowing.
My chest heaves as his eyes feast on my body.
“That I never got to see you—really see you. And that I never took your virginity.”
His eyes find mine again and my breath catches at the intensity within them.
He means every word of that statement.
“Every single day since that night, I’ve regretted walking away.”
“You didn’t have a choice. They needed you.”
“But I needed you.”