She hated that her eyes were tearing over, and she hated more that he could probably feel dampness against his neck. "I don't know what I did to deserve that. But it goes both ways." She squeezed her eyes tighter against the tears, burrowing a little closer, her wings still flat against his arm. Even though she was crying, he was there, warm and smelling vaguely of guy shampoo. "Duncan, you ... you know I like you, right?"
Oh, because that hadn't sounded stupid. If she hadn't just been through a traumatic experience, she'd have facepalmed at her own idiocy.