I laughed weakly through tears. “What? Can you actually see?”
Callahan didn’t laugh.
He simply took both my hands into his.
“Do you remember the kitchen explosion?” he asked softly. “The one you barely survived?”
Everything inside me froze.
I had never told him about the kitchen explosion. I had only told him I carried scars from an accident when I was young, and even that confession took weeks. The rest of it lived inside a locked room I had never once opened for him.
I pulled my hands away. “H-how do you know that?”
Callahan turned slightly toward me. “Because there’s something you don’t know.”
A chill moved through my body. “What are you talking about?”
He removed his glasses. For one terrifying second, I thought he was about to confess he could see—that every part of our relationship had been built on a lie.
But then he looked directly toward my voice and slightly beyond it, and I understood. He wasn’t looking at me.
He was staring into darkness.
“I was there that afternoon, Merry,” Callahan whispered at last.
