The day passes in a blur. All I remember is my mind seesawing from one extreme to the other. When I get home tonight, I’ll confront Aaron. I’ll tell him I saw the pills, I’ll tell him I know what they’re for. I’ll make him tell me what’s wrong…
No, I can’t do that. He’ll get angry at me, think I’m snooping—I can’t betray his trust like that. I’ll drop a hint or two, maybe, get him to tell me about the pills, and hopefully open up a dialogue between us.
No, I should tell him.
I can’t.
When five o’clock finally rolls around, I’m still undecided. Part of me hopes he’s home before me; another part doesn’t want to see him yet. What will I say? How can I say it so he’ll listen?
Fortunately, I don’t have to make any decisions right away—my car’s the first to pull into our driveway. For the f
