“No,” he said gently. “You went to a funeral.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“I don’t understand.”
“I know,” he said. “And I am so sorry. There are things I did because I thought they would protect you. There are things I allowed because I was afraid of what Jason’s family could do. I was wrong. I have lived with that every day.”
The apology did not heal me.
Not then.
It fell into me like a stone into deep water, disappearing before I could tell whether it would sink or surface.
“Why didn’t you come for me?” I asked.
The question left me small. Not like the woman in court. Not like the woman who had stood before a judge with scars uncovered and voice steady.
