“And I’m stopping it,” she fires back.
“You don’t stop something like this by lighting it on fire,” I say.
“You don’t stop it by letting it run,” she replies.
We stare at each other, neither of us moving.
“You’re not going to support this,” she says.
It isn’t a question.
I don’t answer immediately.
“I’m not going to expose this without a plan,” I say finally.
Her expression hardens completely.
“Then we’re done,” she says.
The words hit harder than anything else.
“That’s not what this is,” I say, my voice tightening.
“It is if you’re not with me,” she replies.
“I am with you,” I say.
“No,” she says, her gaze steady now. “You’re with your version of this.”
“And you’re with yours,” I counter.
“At least mine does something,” she snaps.
“And mine keeps it from getting worse,” I fire back.
The silence that follows settles heavy and final.
“You think I’m wrong,” she says.
“I think you’re rushing,” I reply.
“I think you’re afraid,” she says.
“I think you’re not seeing the whole picture,” I reply.
“Maybe I don’t need to,” she says.
“You’re going to do this anyway,” I say.
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
No doubt.
I exhale slowly, the weight of it settling in.
“That’s going to start something you can’t stop,” I say.
