My voice comes out in a whisper when I say, “When I first met you on that ferry, I could tell you were damaged.” There’s a flicker of something in his eyes as he tilts his head to the right. “You think I’m damaged?” “Yes.” He moves even closer in the water, but there wasn’t much space left between us to begin with. It’s deliberate, and so much of me is touching so much of him now. “You’re right,” he says quietly, slipping a hand around the back of my left knee. “There’s nothing left of me but a fucking pile of debris.” He pulls me to him, wrapping both my
