He shook his head. “No, baby, it wasn’t that way from the beginning, and it wasn’t us. It was you.”

I shook my head too, faster and shorter shakes than his.

“You know, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I also don’t care. It’s done. It’s been done a long time. You made that decision and you had your reasons. You understand them and that’s all you need. I had no choice, but that doesn’t matter now. It’s over. So over. And like you said back then, we’re moving on. And I know that because we’ve moved on, or at least I have, and I’m good where I am.”

“You needed space,” he returned. “You needed time. You needed to breathe. You needed to figure out who you were.” He threw out an arm to the living room and then toward me. “And you did that.”

“I could have done that with you.”

“No, you couldn’t have.”

“You know, you keep saying ‘no.’ Everything I say, you say ‘no.’ Like you know me better than me. Like you can make the decisions about what’s best for me.”

“I do know you better than you, and it killed, Lyla, but knowin’ that, knowin’ what you needed, I had to make the decision that was best for you.”

I leaned my torso back and crossed my arms. “Well, obviously you felt that way because that’s what you did. I didn’t agree but,” I shrugged, “no matter. No matter then and it doesn’t matter now. Though I will take issue with how much it killed you, Preacher. It took you maybe two minutes to gut me, looking tan and healthy, before you walked away. No drama, which was probably nice, not to have to recover from that as well. But not a tear shed either. All our time together. All we shared. All we gave each other. Two minutes, you rip us apart, you walk away, you don’t look back and you’re gone.”

“You cannot think for a second that didn’t kill me,” he said low.

“I saw what I saw,” I replied.

“Lyla—”

“You told my grandfather I’d always have respect from you, and I do not call that respect. Not what happened in Seattle. Definitely not what happened in Portland. And absolutely not what happened on that beach.”

He didn’t pause even a single beat before he returned, “I think, Audie knew what was goin’ down, he might not have championed the way I did it, but he would have agreed with the fact it had to be done.”

Those words just did not just come out of his mouth.

“I cannot believe you,” I hissed.

“It’s true, cher,” he said gently.

All right.

Enough.

“You didn’t trust me,” I whispered.

He shut his mouth.