“Just fucking tell me, Pen. This is only as complicated as you make it. Put me out of my goddamn misery!” he growls, angry at me, at the situation, at us. “We could always talk, you and me. That was never a problem. What the fuck happened to change that? What you did came out of the left field. You blindsided us, Pen. We were happy. We fucking loved you.” His hands come up once more and his fingers slide into my hair, tightening on the strands. “I know you did—” “Is that it? Is that all you can fucking say? I know. You don’t fucking know. You don’t fucking understand what that did to us,” he
