We were on the couch, and I was still straddling him. He had his hands over his face, rubbing it in agitation. When he dropped his hands, I saw the shame in his eyes.

“I remember my father always being miserable. I never wanted to be like him, and until I met you, I was exactly like him. I was bitter because my mother and father left my siblings and me.”

“Silas. . .” I trailed off and caressed his cheek. “I’m sure—”

He caught my hand and gave me a look of ...