Jerking back a little, as if struck, Nathan stared at him. Then he shook his head, turning to hide the tears that he really didn't want to admit were there. "No problem," he said through the tight, sick lump in his throat. "I'm gone."
If Jim had stabbed him, it probably would have hurt less. Shrugging on his coat, trying to not just curl into a ball, fold in on himself and give in to the ache, the miserable agony, Nathan blindly reached for the door. "I'll get my stuff out later," he said, jerking the door open, almost desperate to get away.