“Want to know why I call you Little Bird?” John’s question is not at all what I expected. I look up at him and nod. “When I first saw you, there was something in your eyes. A wild look, like a Little Bird locked in a cage, dying to break free. Only you’re not a songbird. You’re not something fragile that needs protection from the world. You’re something different. An eagle, a hawk, a bird of prey with sharp talons. A pretty creature, able to defend herself.” He traces a finger up my arm. “You don’t need me to protect you. But I’ll do it anyways.”