I wanted the walls to collapse. I wanted the thunder to swallow the roof. I wanted the floor to give way and the snowstorm outside to pile right into my mouth and bury me alive because the silence in that room was unbearable and my body was not mine and my skin was itchy with decision and shame and memory and desire and history and... eyes. Their eyes. Jack’s eyes. Ryan’s eyes. Damon’s f*****g eyes. I hated that he looked the most calm, the most centered, the most healed, like he’d walked through his hell and figured out his theology and emerged a reformed man of grace who no longer needed the prize he once bled for. I hated that he smiled like he’d won by losing. I hated that he was noble. I hated that I wasn’t.
“Let me go,” I said. “One of you needs to. Just... let me go.”
It wasn’t a
