"It's not like that," Kavinsky said, a little breathless. His chest was tight, a terrible ache in his lungs and his bones and his heart. He kept his gaze down. It was like that, though. For so long, the rules hand't applied to him, because he'd built himself like that.

"And, I--I'm allowed to hope to be forgiven," he said. "I want to earn that. I want to make this okay again. I need to know how I can make this okay, sugar."