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He’d flinched.

It wasn’t until Lewis had collapsed on the sofa, assured of Hathaway’s wellbeing, that he’d replayed the events of the day in his mind and remembered.

He’d flinched.

Lewis could still feel the biting disappointment at Hathaway’s deceit.


No, it wasn’t deceit.

Hathaway had lied, in an attempt to hide from the past.

Lies born of shame.

He’d flinched.

When Lewis had confronted Hathaway, rounding on him in frustration and anger, the younger man had flinched away.

Just for a brief moment.

Before he’d stood his ground and pleaded his case.

But it was enough.

He’d flinched.