Davis had told me repeatedly I didn't have to knock, but this wasn't my house. As much as I loved Davis, there was still some piece of him I hadn't quite connected with. It certainly wasn't due to lack of trying, but there was a barrier between his past and me.
It wasn't that I thought he was hiding anything per se; he just didn't want to relive it or share it, but I believed firmly that our pasts cultivated who we were today. Good and bad experiences shape who we become, and I wanted to know all of him. Yet other than that brief bit about his ex-wife, I knew very little about his life prior to me.
I'd tried bringing it up without pressuring him, but he just smiled and reminded me the past should stay there, or some equally philosophical hogwash. If he weren't so adamant about keeping
