"Sometimes I don't understand either," he said with a slight shrug, then turned his body to her. "But sometimes it's different."
With a sigh he walked back over to the couch and took a seat on the opposite side from her, not wanting to crowd her too much. "I probably should head out," he said. "But I don't want to leave. . . knowing that you hate me. I care about you, Minerva. . . And I haven't cared about anyone in a long time. I can't step out that door thinking that you can't stand me."