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Infuriating as he was his hand still held her attention. Even in its state of disrepair it was captivating.
She’d felt the same about him, initially. That had changed the moment he’d opened his mouth. Or had it? She wouldn’t be so irritated by his attitude, his words, if it had, would she?
He’d caught the way her eyes followed it, he must have because the next time they spoke, it was gloved. She’d pushed back the pang of loss that gripped her, as well as the hope that she could repair the hand, and maybe him in the process.