"I want you to be honest, you prick! I want you to tell me that you were worried sick you couldn't sleep at night, that you missed me and that it killed you not to answer my calls or texts, that you spent hours thinking about me and missing me!” I shouted, pushing his chest, shoving him back, desperate to get any other reaction than the rigid expression plastered on his face. "Why can’t you be honest with me?” "Because you're going to hurt!" He shouted back, looking at me with pain in his eyes. His voice faltered into a whisper. “And I don't want you to get hurt, Des. You were right about me,
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