Page 73 of Casualties of War
Telling herself that and abiding by it were two different things.
All the way back to where they had left the heaviest of their gear buried beneath leaves and nets, she realized she was watching Adán more than Amos was, reacquaintingherself with the lines of his face, the way his jaw worked whenever he was in pain, or mad, or puzzled.
Adán was different. His black eyes showed nothing when before, they had been the most revealing thing about him. She had always known what he was thinking by reading it in his eyes. They were that expressive.
Only now, he was closed up, his eyes shuttered and she couldn’t read anything.
You did that to him, the accusing voice raged in her mind.
She shrugged the guilty thought aside. She wouldn’t fool herself she had that much influence over Adán Caballero. She had known him for a short while, some years ago. That was it.
That was all it could be. Period.
