Words he'd never spoken aloud, words he'd shoved down so deep he'd forgotten how sharply they stung. When was the last time he'd even thought about Robert?
Clio's touch was gentle, demanding nothing. Warmth bloomed from her fingertips where they brushed his skin. She would listen, if he told her. Maybe, in a certain way, she would even understand.
The words froze, as they always did, in his ribcage. Will dropped his gaze. "It was a long time ago," he said. He looked up again, apologetic. "Sorry. I didn't mean to... it's not the most pleasant topic of conversation over drinks."