Eliza had known it the moment he’d told her to wash her face that morning, as if soap could erase fourteen years of cruelty. He’d made her put on her cleanest dress, the one with the patched hem and the too-tight sleeves, and he’d brushed her hair with a tenderness that felt like a lie.
Kindness, from Jeb Hart, always …
👇 👇 👇 👇 👇
