“They said you’d wake up,” he shares, head turned to me and eyes unfocused. He sniffles. “They kept telling me you’d be okay, but I was so fuckin’ scared, Jake. Jesus Christ. I was so scared our last conversation was going to be me telling you all those things, those terrible things I didn’t mean. How could I—” He pauses, face pinching in agony. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of that shit. How could I say that to you?”
:(
