“You could’ve left me and saved yourself.” I shrug. “It didn't cross my mind. But I don't know if it's because I'm all that virtuous. I would've rather struggled with you than be alone.” His hands are unmoving for a beat, then resume. “I called you weak,” he states. “Why didn’t you correct me?” “Because I am—” “You’re not,” he interjects, voice hard and unyielding. “You’re not weak, Sawyer. You’re exceptional. And I’m sorry I ever validated that misconception.”
