When our eyes met, his steps noticeably faltered. Gone was the easy grin he used to flash me whenever we met. Instead, his face held an unusually cautious expression. The man who once ran toward me with open arms now approached me as if walking on glass.
Was my presence making things difficult for him?
I gritted my teeth, suppressing the sting in my chest. I reminded myself not to fall back into old habits, the ones that made me place his feelings above my own.
Cayden stopped a few steps away, close enough for me to catch the faint, familiar scent of tobacco and cologne clinging to him.
He raised his hand slowly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His touch was light, almost hesitant. A shadow of regret flickered across his face. "You cut your hair so short. What a shame."
The comment stung more than it should have. Did he expect me to stay exactly the same after six years in prison? I shifted slightly, avoiding his hand and forced my voice to remain calm.
"Hair grows back. It's no big deal."
Cayden nodded, though his expression tightened ever so slightly. "True. But you looked better with long hair. You should grow it out again."