“I have been one acquainted with the night.” —“ACQUAINTED WITH THE NIGHT,” 1928 June 8 I woke up afraid today. Afraid of what I’ve done, of what it means, of what I feel, and of what I could lose because of it all. Shane has been my constant every day for the past four years of my life, and until now I thought he was my future, too. And it was safe, that thought, and known, and seemed like how it should be. I don’t want to lose the comfort of his hand sliding into mine or the smile on his face when he talks about what that future together will look like. The thing I can’t stand more than the thought of losing him is the thought of hurting him. I don’t want to know what his face will look like if I tell him what I’ve done. What I chose. I don’t think I could look him in the eye. But I don’t know if I have a choice in that anymore. I think I have to tell him that I stepped off the edge I’ve been balancing on since the night I met Orion. Because I don’t think there’s any coming back from that.
