“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “Please don’t do that. Don’t fuckin’ cry. I can’t stand when people cry—” “I can’t help it,” I snap at him. God, I can’t let him watch me fall apart. I duck away from the railing’s edge, using our shared wall as a barrier as I fall quietly to pieces. After a minute, he groans and Sy whimpers. “Come on…Rachel?” “It’s f-fine,” I garble. “I’ll be fine. Just g-go back inside. I’ll call the p-police and wait h-here.” I can hear him muttering to the dog. “God—fuck—fine!” he shouts over at me. “Rachel, I’ll help you.” I go still. “You will?” “Yes—fuck,” he mutters again.
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