I looked up at the Godzilla on top of my supply drawers on my desktop. I’d done the right thing. Right? I hadn’t wanted him to know what was happening in that house. I had to cut him loose. But I did regret not trusting him. Whatever I had to lose, I’d lost already. I should’ve told him I loved him, and it wasn’t his fault, and maybe someday . . . Maybe someday.
