I don’t let anyone touch me. Not anymore. I have no problem trusting animals. People, though? They’re another matter. Then Wren shows up at my carnival asking questions about my menagerie.
She’s got kind hands and suspicious eyes, and she flinches every time I get close—like she senses the beast inside. She should be afraid of me.
But she looks at my scars like she wants to understand them. Nobody has ever wanted to understand them. I’ve survived the demons of my past by keeping everyone at a distance.
But Wren is the first person in years who makes me want to close it. And that might be more dangerous than anything that came before.
