“Mmhmm,” Lena mumbled. The sting was way worse now than when she’d first scraped it.

Nate hesitated. “I’ll be gentler.

“It’s not the pressure,” she whispered, barely audible.

He got what she meant. “Lena, I’m sorry. I couldn’t protect you or find you sooner.”

He didn’t need anyone else piling on-he was already kicking himself. What kind of boyfriend couldn’t even keep his girl safe?

“I never blamed you,” Lena said, looking straight at him. And she meant it. This wasn’t on him; it was part of the deal with her job.

“But I blame myself,” Nate admitted, his eyes glued to her injuries. Guilt and heartbreak were all over his face.