“I cannot chase you,” I say woodenly. God, the pain keeps growing. The hurt. “I’ve chased down people who were supposed to love me all my life. I can’t do that anymore.” A fist of feeling lodges itself behind my breastbone, and I swallow hard. “I shouldn’t have to.” He stops then and looks at me, looks through me. His expression is set and distant. “That’s my point. You shouldn’t have to deal with this, with me.” “I don’t know how to make you see how wrong you are,” I whisper.
