“I don’t know what happened. Heard the bit you told your mom, but I can see it in your eyes; you’re not convinced. I know you’re scared of the truth, pissed and hurt, but ask yourself, Nate,” he places a hand on my shoulder, his dark eyes locked on mine, “what’ll be worse? Finding out it was true, that she didn’t love you? Or never knowing for sure, always wondering if you still hold a piece of her, like she always will for you?”
