He looks up, stunned. His blue eyes are round and red-rimmed, bloodshot. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I don’t know who else to talk to about this,” he whispers. “I don’t know anyone else who would even understand—” And I do. All at once. I understand. When his eyes go abruptly glassy with emotion; when his shoulders tremble even as he tries to hold himself still— I feel my own bones rattle. “Of course,” I say, surprising myself. “Come with me.”
Adam and aaron
