“Now you see why I didn’t want to share. Sometimes you have to hold your own sadness, keep your own secrets, carry your own pain.” “When you were alone in the world, that might have made sense, precious, but you’re not alone anymore, which means your sadness is my sadness, your secrets are my secrets, and your pain—” he kisses me again, slow and long as if he’s trying to leech the pain from my system with his lips “—your pain is my pain.”
