“You said you could handle this,” I tried, finding his reflection in the glass. “I lied!” he roared, throwing his hands in the air. I flinched. He slapped his hands at his sides, and then echoed in a whisper, “I lied. But you knew that, didn’t you?” I did, but I’d hoped. God did I fucking hope. I dropped my chin, because even seeing a faint image of his heartbreak through a sheet of glass was too much. But then I turned to him, because I owed him. I owed him full absorption. I owed him more than this. “And then I think,” he said, facing the fire, hands drifting into his pockets, “I never
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