At that, he laughed. "I'm sure she'll enjoy that. I'll pitch in for really expensive chocolates, too." And just like that, the laugh faded, and he looked grim again. It only seemed to accentuate the lines already written on his face. "People can get very creative when they're fueled by hate."
He pulled her into a tight embrace as they stood underneath the starry sky. "We're not animals, Brenna. We're not." His fingers were in her hair and he was not crying. He was not crying, dammit, he was not--
Shit, yes he was. But they were manly tears. Or something.