"I know," I whisper, looking down at his hand covering mine, broader and rougher, the way it's always been.

"It felt... It wasn't fun, like it had been before. Without you. I fucked three people that weekend, tryin' to... trying to make it hurt less. Trying to forget what it was like, with the three of us," I admit. I don't know why I feel like I need to tell him. Confess sins that really weren't sins in the first place, but that I've felt guilty for, all this time. Things I've done wrong, missteps I've taken. Things I wish had gone differently.

Coughing out a laugh, I say, "Wasn't even a record, for me, it just... felt like this big step backward." I was only just starting to feel like I was ready to move forward again, and now I'm here. I don't know what the fuck that means for me and what I'm supposed to do with myself.