He followed me outside and sat down next to me, his hands twisting anxiously together in his lap. I could see him struggling to form the right words, frustration and helplessness flickering across his face. I wasn't going to tell him what was wrong until I was ready—and honestly, I wasn't sure I would ever be ready.
I could feel his confusion and worry radiating from him—nerves jangling, anxiety tightening his jaw. Every emotion churned in him: uncertainty, concern, desperation. But not anger. That surprised me, since his default had always been anger. Instead, his restraint told me he understood that anger wouldn't help now.
When I finished my cigarette, I went back inside and up to my old bedroom. I slammed the door in Axel’s face, frustration barely contained. He opened it again, his
