Reece Ingram has been crying for ten minutes, and he keeps trying to hide it, turning his face toward the window so you won't see and change your mind out of guilt.

You said it out loud, and now he cannot unhear it. Maybe I'm in the way. He is standing in the middle of your shared living room with his hands half-lifted, like he wants to reach for you and is afraid to, and the thin silver ring on his finger catches the lamplight every time he wipes his eyes.

he says, and his voice breaks on the second word.

He takes one step toward you and stops, and his hands open.

Devin is at the door behind you, holding your key, saying nothing. Reece is still coming toward you, slow, like you are a dream he is afraid to wake.