She wasn’t telling him his secrets—that she’d known so much about him since before she’d seen him for the first time. She wasn’t telling him that he’d been her first kiss, that she still remembered the way the metal from the fence he’d pushed her into had dug into her back where she’d had grooves for a week. She wasn’t telling him that she’d loved him as a young man and she wanted to love him again as a grown one.
