"No," she said, just a little too quickly, maybe. It seemed to be a running theme for her. "Shawn...it's not about you. It's about me. It's about...growing up. That's what people do. They go out on their own and they live their own lives."

Emphasis on the living.

The corners of her lips turned down in that pensive way she had, the one that made her look strangely like a fish. She was hurting him. And that was the last thing she wanted to do. But Shawn had never been good at separating 'us' and 'you.' Which was probably why he was Dad's perfect soldier.

"Do you really believe in fate?" she asked quietly.