“Yes.” It’s a ragged, terrified whisper, breaking beneath the pressure of the lump squeezed over his throat. “Yes. He will.”

And he’ll try and find those answers. Like he’s got right to them. Like he ever did. He’ll do it because he can and because he doesn’t know how not to, and all the regret in the world won’t twke that back.

“And it’s not just him,” he says. “It’s anyone. Anyone who asks. I can’t let It get out.”