Grace stood, small and pale, and picked up the bag.
“He said you might do this.”
“I will see what he chose to hide from me.”
“Then he finally told the truth about something.”
She walked past me toward the hallway, dragging the backpack behind her.
The strap scraped along the wooden floor.
It was a sound I would remember for years afterward.
I followed her to the top of the stairs.
And that’s where she broke.
It was a sound I would remember for years afterward.
Grace sank to the floor.
She folded into herself, sobbing into her sleeves.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m so sorry I ruined him for you.”
I stopped.
“He was already ruined, Grace. He did this. Not you.”
“He said you’d hate me. He said he’d carry it, and I wouldn’t have to be the secret anymore.”
