I’m sorry
I didn’t mean
I lied when
“Clearly.”
“No. No, I . . .” I cover my eyes with my hands. I’m a mess. I’m making a mess. “I didn’t mean to . . . For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re an asshole. Or manipulative. Or selfish. Or . . .” Unloved. “Or most of the other things I called you in New York, really. Or maybe you are, a bit, but no more than any other chess player in the entire universe. No more than me.” I try to take a deep breath, and the air almost chokes past the ache in my lungs. “I really didn’t think any of the things I said. And when I called you ‘crazy’ . . . I’m really ashamed of that. I was . . .”
I don’t know what I was. But Nolan does. “Angry. Tired. Hurting, and wanting to make me hurt just as much. Scared out of your mind.”
I close my eyes. “Absolutely fucking terrified.”
He nods. Still not looking at me. “I never wanted to manipulate you, but . . . you can pay me back for the fellowship, if it’ll make you feel better. That way you won’t owe me anything, and you’ll be free of me.”
My stomach sinks.