“I know.”
“But I haven’t accepted yet.”
I turn toward her.
“Why not?”
“I asked for forty-eight hours to think.”
Something inside my chest jolts violently.
Like my heart is trying to restart after cardiac arrest.
“Why?” I ask again.
She looks at me like she can see through every wall, every lie, every defense I’ve built around myself.
“Because I don’t know if I really want to leave.”
Say something.
Anything.
Ask her to stay.
Give her a reason.
Beg if you have to.
“Mary…”
She turns toward me.
I don’t want you to go.
That’s what I should say.
What I want to say.
But the words still refuse to come.
“Finn?”
“There’s something I need you to know…”
Instead of asking her to stay or giving us a chance, I tell her the truth about my past.
Really tell her.
About the hospital.
About the little girl.
About the mistake that shattered me.
“One mistake brought me to the Highlands,” I finish quietly.
Mary reaches for my arm, her eyes shining.
