"This isn't about me hurting, Jax." She said it sharply - probably too sharply, but she was on edge as she talked to him, her voice raw and full of sudden, flaring anger as she pulled away from him. "This isn't about me. This is about you." She ran her hands up into her hair before she moved to pull on a pair of underwear. "This is about if you're just going to keep acting like this shit is going to go away. If I should be like- If I should just be like... Suck it up. Deal with it." She tugged off the towel, and moved to put on her bra as she looked at him over her shoulder.

The anger was entirely misdirected fear. It was her own fear about what it would do to them, about the giant void of three years between them. She was terrified that he'd look at her and realise that she wasn't the woman he'd loved since they were sixteen, that she would never be that person again - not realising that there were times when it was okay, again. That the two of them were whole, and that it may just take time.