Callan looked down at his plate for a moment, then back at Emily. "Em," he began slowly, "there's a lot I want to tell you. I don't even know where to start."
"Start with what happened at the hospital yesterday," she said softly. "Why did you break down that way?"
He nodded, staring at his hands. "That's a good place to start. Because that's where everything began. Most of my nightmares are about that and the incident that followed."
So he told her everything he'd told Jamal. About the memories, the guilt, the weight he'd carried for years.
His voice shook at times, but he didn't stop, and he didn't look at her. He couldn't bring himself to.
Emily's chest ached as she listened.
When he finished, he didn't dare look at her. He just stared at the table, waiting for her to tell him what a terrible person he was.
Then he felt something warm, her hand, sliding over his.
He looked up then.
