Maybe I was just … fearful. Because if I liked Brougham, and he liked me, I could get hurt, the kind of hurt that unrequited love couldn’t compare to. Right now, I was sitting in the space between a sound and its echo. Brougham had asked a question, and I had to answer it. It was that, or keep dreaming about love, and working toward helping others find it, while never letting myself risk it.
