That was more anticlimactic than I’d expected it to be. All the way back here, I imagined myself yelling at her loud enough to put the fear of hell in her so that she’d think twice before ever putting herself in danger again. So how did I end up falling into the trap of her eyes once again? The more I fight against what Lyon and the others keep preaching, the more it seems like I’m in a losing battle with myself.

Every man is different; at least, that’s the argument I keep ...