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“Somebody taken from him. I’m a fucking person.”

“You right.”

She stared at me.

“You right.”

I wasn’t fixing that shit with pretty words.

“So yeah. At first, getting close to you was about him.”

Her eyes started getting glossy.

That shit fucked with me worse than her yelling.

“But then you started calling me.”

She looked away.

“You started talking to me about shit that had nothing to do with Xay. Work. Your kids. Your mother. Shit that pissed you off. Dumb shit you saw at the hospital.”

Her mouth tightened.

“And I started wanting to hear it.”

“Stop.”

“I started knowing what days you worked. What coffee you wanted. What side of the bed you slept on. How you get quiet when you’re really pissed instead of loud. How you steal food off my fucking plate after saying you ain’t hungry.”

“Stop trying to make this shit romantic.”

“I ain’t.”

I stepped closer.

“I’m telling you where I fucked up.”

She stared at me.

“I should’ve told you the minute it stopped being about him.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“When was that?”

I thought about it.

Really thought about it.

“I don’t know.”

I rubbed my hand over my beard.

“I can tell you it was before all this shit came out about Heather and Avery.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Before you threw him out.”