Veronica's eyebrows pinch together, worry and confusion, and she watches Cougar for a long moment, trying to read the details of what he's said in the movement of his hands, the subtle shifting of his muscles beneath the skin.

She blinks at last and tilts her head. "Why?"

There is no impulse to cast stones, given her own glass house. But this, she thinks, is not so black and white as his previous confession.