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“She sounds like a spirited little girl”

“She is She’s the troubles of the world My son is more cautious, he’s the protector”

My ovaries ache listening to him talk about his children That’s when I realize he isn’t being kind by sharing facts about his children with ets to be with his children, while I will never see ain It’s torture

I pull the jacket tighter around ston, it still makes me feel comforted

I feel Langston’s eyes onto read my emotions in the dark He doesn’t have to look at me to feel my torment—it’s in the air between us

He’s going to say soht now, I can’t handle it

“Don’t I know I’ve hurt you, and you’ve hurt ht now,” I say

He doesn’t speak I close my eyes to try and block out the pain

I feel a brush against ers wrap aroundme

“Why are you being nice?” I whisper, my eyes still closed I’m too afraid if I open them that the tears will spill, and he’ll see hoeak I am

“Seeinggot so dao back to that ti”

I open my eyes “Me too”

He nods

“Do you regret settingthat I killed Waylon?” he asks

I frown; my answer could reveal too much It could lead to more questions I’m not ready to answer