Damian stared at her , not speaking . Not because he didn't want to answer, but because he didn't know how to. Her question had landed harder than he expected, cutting past the banter and touching something raw. Why are you being nice to me? He didn't have an answer that made sense.
His mission had nothing to do with kindness. He had come here with one purpose, and it certainly wasn't to comfort the Dean's daughter. Caring for Harper Reed wasn't in the plan. It wasn't supposed to matter how broken her voice sounded when she said she didn't understand why Logan's every move tore her apart. It wasn't supposed to matter that her amber eyes shimmered with unshed tears, silently pleading for something she couldn't name.
And yet, here he was—caring.
Damian's jaw clenched, his hand curling tighter in his pocket. He hated that she made him hesitate. He hated even more that, despite himself, the thought of walking away left an uncomfortable weight pressing on his chest.
