Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
She turns her back to me, staring out the window while wiping her nose with the back of her hand and sniffling.
“I was selfish. And I’m sorry. But after I told you about my time in juvie, I couldn’t imagine not losing you if I told you everything.”
“You should have told me everything.”
“I know, I just …”
She turns. “You just what? You were afraid of losing me to the truth? Well, this no longer feels like the truth. It feels like betrayal. How am I supposed to trust you?”
“June.” I shake my head. “That’s it. I’m not keeping anything else from you. And I would have told you, but how would you have reacted? Because when I told you about juvie, you walked away.”
“Jesus, Flynn. I’m human. I had a human reaction. But I apologized.”
“Exactly!” I blow out a slow breath. This isn’t how I want to react to her. She has every right to be upset. But I can’t help this feeling of desperation. “You’re human,” I say. “And you were abducted. I can’t imagine what that was like for you, but I would expect your human reaction to be severe. And I don’t know how to make this okay because apologizing for not telling you feels like I wish we weren’t together. You would have run. And I wouldn’t have blamed you. So here I am, apologizing for not telling you, but really I’m apologizing for hurting you again because I don’t know if I can be sorry for everything that’s happened between us.”
Her red eyes bleed more tears as her lips quiver. “Jesus, Flynn. You should have trusted me.”
“You can’t say that. You didn’t trust me.”
“No!” She swallows hard, jaw clenched. “I can’t compare my secret to yours.”
“I’m not comparing secrets. I’m just saying you didn’t trust me, and I didn’t trust you.”
“N-no…” she laughs through a little sob. “My family’s wealth is not about something I did or didn’t do. It wasn’t a choice I made. But going to prison, twice, is just …” Again, she shakes her head a half dozen times. “What happens when there’s a knock at the door someday, and you’re arrested for something you forgot to mention?” She balls her hands into fists. “Why didn’t you get a job instead of stealing the car?”
I shake my head. “I … I couldn’t get a job. Nobody would hire me.”
“That’s bullshit.”
I rest one hand on my hip and rub my temples with the other. “I’m not lying. I’m not saying it was right. But you don’t know what it’s like to live the way I did.”
“Because I’m rich?”
“Because you were raised by people who loved you. And you’ve probably never lived on the street or out of your car.”
“That doesn’t make it okay to steal from people.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“Did you sleep with that man’s wife?” She crosses her arms over her chest.
I’ve lost her. And she has every right to be mad. But fuck, it hurts so much. After a few seconds, I nod.
More tears well in her bloodshot eyes, and she bites her quivering lip. I hate that I’m hurting her. But it was always going to hurt, and if I would have told her before she was emotionally invested in me, when it wouldn’t have hurt, she wouldn’t have given me a chance. That’s just a fact.
Does it make me selfish? Yes.
A liar? Yes.
But I think everything in my life has led me to her. I have to believe it.
One. Good. Thing.
I have to believe I’m deserving of one good thing.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispers, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
“Do this? What is this?” My words come out louder—more desperate—than I intend. “Talk? Be with me? Move in to an apartment together? Love me?”
“I … I don’t know,” she says, as if something inside of her has died.
Drawing in a sharp breath, I prepare to make another plea. But after holding it for a few seconds, I exhale in silence. It’s over.
Bowing my head, I step past her toward the bedroom door.
She reaches for my wrist. Her fingers wrapping around it feels like slow motion. It’s how my heart feels, stumbling over its next beat, looking for a steady rhythm, looking for purpose. No one has ever been this gentle.
Fuck every single tear that breaks free. I use my other hand to wipe them away. Her body shakes with more silent sobs. When she’s ready, I’ll walk away. But I won’t until she lets go. It can’t be me. I tried letting her go, but my heart is not capable of that.
“This stops now,” she says softly. “I bet you don’t know what it feels like to trust someone.”
“Don’t do this,” I say as emotions strangle my words.
“For someone to trust you.” She turns to face me.