He watched her house from his porch and went over in his head several ways to say all that he meant to say to her. But each thing he meant to say, each phrase he had the mind to convey fell short.
He didn’t know how to apologize for his anger, because in some ways he felt justified. But he also felt like a hypocrite, because he too had tried to keep things from her. He too had failed to give her his trust. Out of fear, yes. But he was just as guilty, he was just as wrong.
So he tossed aside all his array of words and simply strode to her house. He’d be mature enough to let her have her say– he hadn’t before– and hopefully they could get passed this. Whatever it was, ‘this’ was.
She felt him before she checked her peephole to see who was knocking and although she was shocked, as even his shadow had not fallen on her door since the two weeks she had returned from captivity, she did her best not to show her happy surprise.
