“I know,” I answer back, a new onslaught of soft tears which have risen to the surface make their way down my face. Arrick brushes them away with his thumb, focusing on my eyes, gently boring into my soul.

“Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.” He nudges me again softly, his tone soothing. It doesn’t take much coaxing for that verbal pain to spew out when he has me this way. Malleable and easy to coax, half drunk, and torn with fragility.

“I’m so tired of ...