“So that’s it then?” I say roughly, hating the way my voice breaks. “You’re just gonna…never let it go. You’re just gonna let this guilt eat at you for the rest of your life, stripping you of anything good? And not just you, but me.” He watches me, his scruffy jaw quivering. “Because that’s what you did. What you’re doing now,” I tell him. “This isn’t just about you.” My face bunches, tears rushing to my eyes. “Yeah, I was eighteen. But I’m not anymore, and guess fucking what? You were wrong. You were so fucking wrong. And you wasted over three years.”
