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“Based on what?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Grayson.”

“Autumn.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.”

His eyes snap to mine.

Good.

Now we’re getting somewhere.

“You sent me away from the hospital,” I continue. “You disappeared. You didn’t call, didn’t write, didn’t even send a stupid Christmas card. And the whole time, you were sitting somewhere writing me letters you never mailed?”

“Pretty much.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Been established.”

“A spectacular idiot.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes. You’re also an emotionally constipated caveman.”

His eyebrows rise.

“Emotionally constipated?”

“Severely.”

“Sounds painful.”

“It is. For everyone around you.”

He lets out a rough breath that might almost be a laugh.

I set the letter down and step closer.

“Why did you really think I wouldn’t want to hear from you?”

He looks at me for a long moment.

Then his gaze drops.

“Because I wasn’t the guy you fell in love with anymore.”

My chest tightens.

“Gray.”

“That guy was gone, Pumpkin. Couldn’t walk without help. Couldn’t remember half the shit people told me. Spent most nights waking up screaming.” He gestures toward his head. “Still got a few screws loose, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Your screws were loose long before the accident.”