Bruce finally raised his eyes to mine.
“I never went back for the follow-up.”
“I was ashamed.”
I could barely breathe.
“You knew that and never told me?”
His voice broke. “I was ashamed.”
“You never told me.”
“I thought if I said it out loud, it would kill the last piece of hope you had left.”
Anger hit me so hard I felt my jaw clenching.
“All those years, I thought we were carrying the same grief.”
“So you made that decision for me?”
“I know how bad this sounds.”
“No,” I said. “You do not.”
Bruce flinched.
I stood up from the table.
“All those years, I thought we were carrying the same grief. We weren’t, were we? You were carrying facts. I was carrying whatever story you allowed me to have.”
He looked like that line landed exactly how I intended it.
His face tightened. “They weren’t facts. Not really.”
