“I thought you’d try to be better,” she replies.
“That doesn’t sound terrible.”
“And then something dangerous would happen.”
The simplicity of that statement hits me square in the gut.
Because that part?
That part is absolutely true.
I spent years chasing adrenaline like it was oxygen.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “That tracks.”
Tilda studies me.
“You’re not angry.”
“Oh,” I say with a faint smile, “I’m definitely angry.”
“Then why are you so calm?”
“Because yelling won’t change anything.”
The words surprise both of us.
I push myself off the wall and take a step back.
For the first time since the conversation started, I can’t quite meet her eyes.
“You were right about one thing,” I say.
“What?”
“I wasn’t ready.”
The admission tastes bitter.
But it’s also honest.
“I was reckless,” I continue. “Half the decisions I made back then were basically stunts with better lighting.”
Tilda’s expression softens slightly.
“I didn’t tell you because I thought you deserved punishment,” she says quietly.
“I know.”
“I did it because I thought Jesse deserved better.”
The sincerity in her voice hurts more than any lie could have.
I nod slowly.
“That makes sense.”
Silence stretches between us again.
