Nathan had been practicing not-looking at me for years, in a hundred harmless-seeming ways, and by the afternoon it counted, he had gotten so good at it that he could do it with a knife in his hand.

The not-looking was the crime.

The knife was only what the not-looking picked up.

Chapter 3 — The White Roses

He came to the hospital carrying white roses, as if flowers could close two wounds.

The doctor reviewing my chart stepped between us before he could reach the bed.

His name was Sebastian Ellison, and I did not yet know that he was anything more than the physician who had kept me alive.

“Mr.