Her fingers curled into the cat’s fur, holding for comfort now and not to restrain. “I loved him,” she said softly. “Still love him. I thought he loved me.” She had to swallow. “He did. I don’t know — he — I don’t — ” Words deserted her. After a long moment, she managed, “He’s not wrong. I’m a horrible person.”
Isaac frowned and dropped his hand. “You’re not a horrible person, Summer. He’s just trying to mess with you,” he said, shrugging and taking a few steps back. “Don’t let him make you feel bad. You haven’t done anything wrong,” he said quietly.
“You don’t even know me,” she snapped, releasing the cat, who galloped off. She came to her feet, shoulders hunched and arms folded. “You’ve got an hour’s worth of observations and that’s it, and I’m telling you, I’m a horrible, selfish, cruel, ugly person. Nobody likes me, because I don’t deserve to be liked.”