“Kevin. . . .” She was crying openly now, the sting of minute, crystalline miracles dropping onto hands he looked down to see were clasped in hers. “Kevin, let me help. Let me go with you. Or stay with you. You DO need me, because I need you. I love you.”
And there it was. Like an electric jolt. All the hours spent pouring over innocuous words, searching for distilled hints, leading him here. And maybe it was that sense of liberation that gave him resolve, cards on that table that whatever else she did love him, empowering him. And because he loved her, he went back to the house alone.
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