“The car accident my mother and brother were involved in… I was the one who was supposed to be driving. It should have been me in the driver’s seat of the car that day. Not Leonid.”
She slides a little closer to me, her hand falling against the curve of my neck. “You blame yourself?” “Don’t you?”
She bites her bottom lip. “Every single day.”
“Like I said—we have a lot in common.”
She laughs miserably. “I wish it had been something fun. Like being double-jointed or matching birthmarks or something.” Her hand never leaves my neck. The water is getting cold at this point and the soap suds are almost gone, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “I’m sorry it’s this instead,” she whispers. “But I’m glad you told me.”
The craziest thing isn’t that I did in fact tell her, although that’s insane in
