again when I packed.”
My chest tightened.
You should have come home for Christmas.
“I thought I threw it away,” he continued.
“Apparently I didn’t.”
I waited.
He looked older.
Not ruined or broken.
Just older.
“I hated you for that sentence.”
“I know.”
“I thought you were trying to make me feel guilty.”
“Maybe part of me was.”
He nodded.
“Eventually I realized that wasn’t why it bothered me.”
“Why did it bother you?”
“Because you were right.”
Silence settled between us.
I’d once imagined this conversation.
Cole finally
