Grace folded into herself and sobbed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I ruined him for you.”
Her words stopped me.
For the first time that night, I saw her not as David’s secret, but as a frightened sixteen-year-old girl. She had lost her mother, never been allowed to claim her father, and now lost the brother who had protected her from a distance.
“He did this,” I said. “Not you.”
Grace admitted David feared I would hate her. He had promised to carry the blame so she would no longer have to live in hiding.
Something inside me softened.
I sat beside her on the stairs.
“He was a coward,” I said. “But he loved you. He loved both of us in the wrong order.”
Grace wiped her face.
