The problem, Carver thinks, is that he never says this shit at the right time. He blurts things out and then the consequences echo—he should’ve shut up, let the moment breathe until they’re both steadier instead of while they’re still bodying the aftermath. All these things they don’t talk about until they are, and then he adds this to the mix?

It doesn’t matter that it’s true. That’s besides the point. Time and place, Carver thinks quietly, and unhappily. Now look what you did.

He watched how Rosita clasps her hands, how tightly she holds herself. As if braced for impact. Who could blame her, given the givens?

“I just—you were here when I needed it,” he says finally, lowering his gaze. “And I want to be there for you, when you need it. I know I don’t get it right all the time, but I—I just wanted to say that.”