My entire drive home I agonized over what he could possibly need to tell me that Allysa already knows. So many things went through my head. Is he dying? Has he been cheating on me? Did he lose his job? She didn’t seem to know the details of what happened between us last night, so I have no idea how this relates to that.

Ryle finally walks through my front door ten minutes after me. I’m sitting on the couch, nervously picking at my nails.

I stand up and start to pace as he slowly walks to the chair and takes a seat. He leans forward, clasping his hands in front of him.

“Please sit down, Lily.”

He says it pleadingly, like he can’t take seeing me worry. I return to my seat on the couch, but I scoot to the arm, pull my feet up, and bring my hands to my mouth. “Are you dying?”

His eyes stretch wide and he immediately shakes his head. “No. No. It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?”

I just want him to spit it out. My hands are starting to shake. He sees how much he’s freaking me out, so he leans forward and pulls my hands from my face, holding them in his. Part of me doesn’t want him touching me after what he did last night, but a piece of me needs the reassurance from him. The anticipation of what I’m about to find out is making me nauseous.

“No one is dying. I’m not cheating on you. What I’m about to tell you isn’t going to hurt you, okay? It’s all in the past. But Allysa thinks you need to know. And . . . so do I.”

I nod and he releases my hands. He’s the one up and pacing now, back and forth behind the coffee table. It’s as if he’s having to work up the courage to find his own words and that’s making me even more nervous.

He sits in the chair again. “Lily? Do you remember the night we met?”

I nod.

“You remember when I walked out onto the roof? How angry I was?”

I nod again. He was kicking the chair. It was before he knew marine-grade polymer was virtually indestructible.

“Do you remember my naked truth? What I told you about that night and what caused me to be so angry?”

I lean my head down and think back to that night and to all the truths he told me. He said marriage repulsed him. He was only into one-night stands. He never wanted to have kids. He was mad about a patient he’d lost that night.

I start nodding. “The little boy,” I said. “That’s why you were mad, because a little boy died and it upset you.”

He blows out a quick breath of relief. “Yes. That’s why I was mad.” He stands up again and it’s like I see his entire soul crumble. He presses his palms against his eyes and fights back tears. “When I told you about what happened to him, do you remember what you said to me?”

I feel like I’m about to cry and I don’t even know why yet. “Yes. I told you I couldn’t imagine what something like that will do to that little boy’s brother. The one who accidentally shot him.” My lips start to tremble. “And that’s when you said, ‘It’ll destroy him for life, that’s what it’ll do.’ ”

Oh, God.

Where is he going with this?

Ryle walks over and drops down to his knees in front of me. “Lily,” he says. “I knew it would destroy him. I knew exactly what that little boy was feeling . . . because that’s what happened to me. To Allysa’s and my older brother . . .”

I can’t hold in the tears. I just start crying and he wraps his arms tightly around my waist and lays his head on my lap. “I shot him, Lily. My best friend. My big brother. I was only six years old. I didn’t even know I was holding a real gun.”

His whole body begins to shake and he grips me even tighter. I press a kiss into his hair because it feels like he’s on the verge of a breakdown. Just like that night on the roof. And while I’m still so angry at him, I also still love him and it absolutely kills me to find this out about him. About Allysa. We sit quietly for a long time—his head on my lap, his arms around my waist, my lips in his hair.

“She was only five when it happened. Emerson was seven. We were in the garage, so no one heard our screams for a long time. And I just sat there, and . . .”

He pulls away from my lap and stands up, facing the other direction. After a long stretch of silence he sits down on the couch and leans forward. “I was trying to . . .” Ryle’s face contorts in pain and he lowers his head, covering it with his hands, shaking it back and forth. “I was trying to put everything back inside his head. I thought I could fix him, Lily.”

My hand flies up to my mouth. I gasp so loudly, there’s no way to hide it.

I have to stand up so I can catch a breath.

It doesn’t help.

I still can’t breathe.

Ryle walks over to me, taking my hands and pulling me to him. We hug each other for a solid minute when he says, “I would never tell you this because I want it to excuse my behavior.” He pulls back and looks me firmly in the eyes. “You have to believe that. Allysa wanted me to tell you all of this because since that happened, there are things I can’t control. I get angry. I black out. I’ve been in therapy since I was six years old. But it is not my excuse. It is my reality.”

He wipes away my tears, cradling my head against his shoulder.

“When you ran after me last night, I swear I had no intention of hurting you. I was upset and angry. And sometimes when I feel that much emotion, something inside of me just snaps. I don’t remember the moment I pushed you. But I know I did. I did. All I was thinking when you were running after me was how I needed to get away from you. I wanted you out of my way. I didn’t process that there were stairs around us. I didn’t process my strength compared to yours. I fucked up, Lily. I fucked up.”