And besides, it got started years ago, a snowball tipped into motion and rolling inexorably down the mountain, gathering weight and heft with every year. Even with those years apart, they hadn't lost any of it.

Luther can't tell how long this little meeting had taken, either: it simultaneously felt too brief and too small, and also like it had dragged on forever, the awkward lurch of the conversation intolerable. Moreso for how conversations between them had never been awkward before.

He lets himself back out of Allison's room, and closes the door behind him. Pauses there on the landing, listening to the house settle around them. Wonders if he's made a mistake.

But in the end, Luther turns and goes back to his room.