"It matters because I'm dead to you, and you won't even tell me the truth about it!" he snapped. Then, more softly, "It matters because I can't imagine doing that to you. I can't imagine doing that to myself."

Yep, here was that regret. The problem with giving in to his anger was that he always seemed to run out of it so quickly, left to deal with the aftermath of what he had said and done while he was still in the middle of saying and doing it.

"Don't we have a future together?" he asked, trying but not quite managing to make the question another angry demand.