He pulled away, limped back over to his wheelchair, and sat down with an oomph of pain. He shouldn’t have held her, felt her body against his. How would he ever forget the feel of her again? He tried to get back onto an ordinary track, but couldn’t find his way. He was trembling. “Where. Have you been?”

“Seattle.” She moved toward him. “It’s a long story.”

At her touch, the world—his world—had cracked open or broke apart. Something. He wanted to revel in the moment, burrow into it like a pile of furs and let it warm him, but none of it felt real or safe. “Tell me.”

She shook her head.

“I disappoint. You.”

“You aren’t the disappointment, Matthew. I am. I always have been. I was the one who left. And when you needed me most. I would understand if you can’t forgive me. I can’t forgive me. I did it because, well … there’s someone you need to meet. Afterwards, if you still want to, we can talk.”

Matthew frowned. “Someone. Here?”

“Outside with your dad and Atka. Will you come with me to meet him?”

Him.

Disappointment settled deep, all the way to his bolted-together bones. “I don’t need to meet. Your him.”

“You’re mad. I get it. You said we always stand by the people we love, but I didn’t. I ran.”

“Don’t talk. Go,” he said in a harsh voice. “Please. Just go.”

She looked at him, tears in her eyes. She was so beautiful he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to cry, to scream. How would he ever let her go? He had been waiting for this moment, for her, for them, for all the years he could remember, through pain so bad he cried in his sleep, but every day he woke and thought, Her, and he tried again. He’d imagined a million versions of their future, but he’d never imagined this. Her coming back just to say goodbye.

“You have a son, Matthew.”

It happened for him like that sometimes. He heard the wrong words, took in information that wasn’t there. His screwed-up brain. Before he could guard against it, use his learned tools, the pain of those words crashed down on him. He wanted to let her know that he’d misunderstood, but all he could do was howl, a deep, rolling growl of pain. Words abandoned him; all he had left was pure emotion. He lurched out of the chair and stumbled backward, away from her, hitting the kitchen counter hard. It was his damaged brain, telling him what he wanted to hear instead of what was actually said.

Leni moved toward him. He could see how hurt she was, how crazed she thought he was, and shame made him want to turn away. “Go. If you’re leaving. Go.”