“Oh. Right,” Anthony says, and there is something strange in his voice. He comes back, joining me at the table with a sheepish expression on his face. “I thought you wanted to hang out, and that was your way of doing it.” My initial reaction is to shut this line of thinking down. To remind him of our arrangement and make a cutting remark. But the sun is warm on my skin, and I feel unburdened after telling him about the accident. Hurting him would be cruel beyond even my capabilities. “That just happened to work out in my favor,” I say, and watch as his eyes light up.
