“I know what kind of men I fell for,” I tell them, and the tears spill over as I huff a laugh that hurts everywhere. “I can’t love you for all the ways you’re brave and good, but never let you be those things.” I swallow hard, and my smile becomes pained, too. “Those things will wither and die under the Sinners. It would kill you to watch people die knowing you could have done something. That we should have. You’re all . . . you’re so much braver than me.”
