"Was it Samson?"

I turned around to face Rohan. "No. Rabbi Abrams asked me to do something."

His brows raised in silent questioning.

"Can we not? I mean, not tonight? I'll fill you in tomorrow, but now," I pushed the button again. "I'm fine."

"You're not." His hand snaked out and pushed up my sleeve revealing the kaleidoscope of yellow and purple bruising.

I shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his all-seeing amber eyes before looking away. ...