“Go on. Tell me why. Tell me you were protecting me. Tell me Randall was dying. Tell me I would have thrown away my treatment. Give me the speech you practiced.”
“I didn’t practice one.”
“You’ve had a year.”
“I spent that year hoping you lived long enough to hate me for this.”
The words stopped me.
Wade stood too, but he did not come closer.
“Every time I saw you,” he said, “I wanted to tell you. Every time. When you lost your hair. When Elise called because you couldn’t keep food down. When Jonah said you asked whether Randall had called him. I wanted to tell you so badly I drove here twice and sat around the corner.”
My chest tightened.
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because Randall made me promise.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It was to me.”
“Why?”
“Because he was already dying when he asked.”
