He reached out a hand and brushed his thumb down my jawline while he studied my eyes for the millionth time since we’d come to know each other. “Y...u know, your eyes are the first thing that I noticed about you,” he said. I loved his voice. So smooth and gentle... so beautiful. I smiled and glanced away for a moment before looking back and giving him a sympathetic look. “Your eyes were the second thing I noticed about you,” I said, but put my hand on his cheek to soften the words even more. “And. You got that?’ My dad’s bravado had slipped a few notches. He nodded. The cop turned, then sucker-punched him, and then broke his nose with the flat of his hand. ++++++ To say things changed immediately at my house is an understatement. My dad still hated me, and more than ever, I now hated him with a white-hot fury. It muted over time, of course, and we learned to tolerate one another, my mother the only thing we had in common. We danced around through my middle- and high-school years, and on. More

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