“You’re always fighting for control. You’re the same as me.” “No,” he said, still obviously worked up. “I’ve learned my control.” Something about this new realization emboldened me. “No,” I informed him. “You haven’t. You put on a good face, and most of the time you do stay in control. But sometimes you can’t. And sometimes . . .” I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “Sometimes you don’t want to.” “Rose . . .”
