But if she had forgotten him, or hated him, or turned away — then he had set his whole life on fire for a girl who no longer cared, and the loyalty that was the core of who he was would turn out to have been pointed at nothing.

He was not just afraid of a little girl’s rejection.

He was afraid of discovering that the central fact of himself had been a mistake.

“Then we’ll respect that,” I said.

“And we’ll go home, and you’ll still have a mother who thinks you hung the moon.”

“What if she hates me?

For letting them take her.

For saying yes.”