“I was supposed to protect him. That was my job.” “You loved him—” His laugh is soundless. “Not enough, clearly. I failed him. I missed something. I feel crazy sometimes, like if I replay every second maybe I’ll see what went wrong, or I’ll know what to say—” There are no words large enough, or strong enough, or soft enough for this. I move closer, pushing my forehead to his temple. I squeeze his hand until I feel bone. “You loved him.”
