But Devon had no way of knowing this, and so the next day she only felt sadness. She felt alone. This information was hers now, this terrible, sickening knowledge of what James and Ned had been through – of what Ned was still going through – and yet the knowledge did her no good. She knew she was not allowed to share what she knew with anyone; James had been very, very clear about this. She could not discuss the matter with her friends, or with Austin, or with her parents. Not even with James himself, who had unloaded on her like a tired truck driver dropping off a shipment of spoiled milk. Here, take this. I don’t care where you put it, just don’t try to return it. Which is what she had wanted – she had wanted to help him share his burden, no matter how heavy – except that now she was staggering under the weight of it. As James had been. The load was too much to hold alone, and she could not think what to do.
