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If I look past my own shit, I can see that. I can understand what she’s getting at. What she thinks she wants.

And I have to try. I have to try to listen. And maybe I need to figure out how to say the things that are rolling around in my chest like knives, stabbing me. But I’m just afraid that I’m going to end up stabbingher.

Liar. You’re afraid that you’re going to expose yourself and then get hurt.

I ignore that. I focus on the road.

“How many different houses did we live in together?” she asks.

I tap my hand on the steering wheel. It’s a weird segue, but I’ll allow it. I sure as hell don’t know what to say about anything else.

“Seven,” I say.

“Wow. Over three years.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It was brutal.”

And without even having to pull it apart, I can understand why she needs her own place. I can understand why she needs something that feels like stability for herself. A life that’s her own. And I have to be secure enough to let her get grounded in that so that she can get grounded in me.

“Every new experience was so scary,” she says. “But not you. You were there and you were safe. Did I ever tell you that… he molested me for six months. Until a teacher at my school noticed that something was really wrong with me. I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t social anymore. And I got really upset when people touched me. Even accidentally. He would come into my room at night… everything he did hurt. It made me feel gross and dirty and bad. I…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” I say. I tighten my hands onthe steering wheel. “But youcan. It won’t make me think there’s anything wrong with you. It won’t change how I see you.”

My eyes sting as I stare ahead. I could blame the bright light of the sun, but it’s emotion. Rage. Hurt. I hate that someone did this to her. I hate him. If I ever get my hands on him…

“I know,” she says. “It doesn’t feel like a terrible secret with you. It never did. I was never afraid of how you would react. Ever. I saw you, and it was like… I thought…There you are.There’s this other piece of me. That knight in shining armor I always wanted to come rescue me. The one true king. I knew you had to be out there, and then there you were. Another part of my soul that had been missing for me forever.”

“You were eight,” I say, my voice rough. “You didn’t think all that.”

“I absolutely did.” Then she says, so softly I almost don’t hear her. “I would have been such a romantic if life hadn’t made me scared to dream.”

I clench my jaw, tightening it, my teeth grinding. It hurts to hear her say that. I want to give it all back to her. Everything.

I swallow hard. “When I saw you… I could see that you’d been hurt really badly.” I look out at the middle distance, trying to keep my voice from breaking. “One time, I… at one of the homes I lived in, I befriended a litter of feral barn cats. It took a while for them to let me pick them up. They scratched me at first. Bit me. You reminded me of a little feral cat. One who wanted care but didn’t know how to have it. And hell, I didn’t really know how to give it. I wanted to. You know what a gift it is to be a kid with nothing, to suddenly have someone else to care for. To love.”

“I think I do now,” she says softly.

The difficult issue of her moving out is tabled as we both sit in those feelings. Whatever happens with us, our connection will always be one of the most profound things I’ve ever experienced. Hell, I’m convinced it’s one of the most profound things in all the world. So whatever else there is, there’s that.

We listen to music for part of the drive, and by the time we roll into the hotel that we’re staying at, it’s getting to be about dinnertime. We got a nice place on the edge of town, tucked away in the trees, the biggest lodging in sisters, and one that puts the little roadside motel we stayed in to shame. But that’s the thing. I have money, and I might not spare an extra dime to make myself comfortable, but I’ll give Sarah whatever she needs.

Will you? Are you being petty when she’s telling you what she needs.

Yeah. I kind of am.

I want to say something to her about it, but I can see that she’s getting antsy.

“You want to order dinner?”

“I actually just want to get my stuff, get it loaded up, grab my car and be done with that place. I need to. Like I just need to… I just need to be done.”

“Okay.”

I stash our stuff as quickly as possible, and we get back into the truck and take the fifteen-minute drive to her apartment.

We pull into the driveway, and I look around. There’s no one around, the street clear.

It’s clear that Sarah doesn’t want to linger. She heads straight up the stairs and unlocks the door, and we both head inside.

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