“You never once let me carry any of it.”
He started crying then.
Not the quiet kind.
The kind he’d been holding in since November.
I let him.
I didn’t touch him.
But I didn’t leave, either.
When he could breathe again, I told him about Owen’s garage.
He went very still.
“You went to Owen’s?”
“I went to Owen’s.”
“He told you.”
“He told me.”
“Laur, you can’t let him—”
“He’s going to Voss on Friday.”
Nate stood up so fast his chair fell over.
“No.”
“He’s going to tell him the truth.”
“He has a three-month-old son.”
“He’ll lose his license.”
“He’ll lose everything.”
“Then that’s his choice.”
“No, it’s not—”
“Yes,” I said.
“It is.”
“It’s his choice.”
“It was always his choice.”
“You just took it from him.”
“The same way you took mine.”
He stared at me like he’d never seen me before.
Maybe he hadn’t.
