“Then why can’t I do it?” Now he’s staring at the weapon in his hand, at the weapon he could easily take my life with. “Why is it that when it comes to you, I’m suddenly a coward? Why is it that when it comes to you, I suddenly care? Why is it that I can’t throw this damn knife at my father’s killer!?” His chest is rising and falling rapidly with each ragged breath. I, on the other hand, think I’ve stopped breathing altogether when he says, “I told you I was a fool for you, and it seems I was right.” His laugh is biting. “I’m a fool when it comes to you.”
