“That’s not the same as believing it.”
The words stayed in the room.
For years, Cole had convinced himself that silence was the same as healing. If he didn’t talk about the past, he wouldn’t have to relive it. If he became dependable enough, productive enough, ordinary enough, perhaps the memories would eventually lose their hold on him.
But the memories had never disappeared.
They had simply learned to wait.
Raymond asked, “Did you ever get help?”
“Some.”
“Professional help?”
“Not enough.”
Raymond nodded without judgment.
“There’s no shame in that.”
Cole looked toward the closed office door.
“Claire thought I didn’t care about anything.”
“Did you tell her what you were carrying?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Cole took a long breath.
“Because I wanted her to see me as her husband, not as somebody who couldn’t leave the past behind. I thought if I could give her a peaceful home, I could keep the ugly parts of my life outside it.”
