He’d told me all that thinking I wouldn’t want to be with him anymore. I knew by the regretful look on his face before he’d even begun. He thought I would see him as a victim, or maybe even less of a man. And as for his mother, I felt no remorse. I didn’t see him any differently than I had before. Now, I only felt closer to him than ever. And I wanted to be closer, to know more—everything—like what had happened to him and his brother afterward. I wanted to tell him I loved him.
