Page 139 of Never Tell Secrets

My mind was loud with my father sometimes, as if he was standing over me once again, ready to beat me if I put a toe wrong. The anxiety wriggled in my skin and physical contact made me want to vomit.

But not with Lo.

It was as if her soul was so deeply attuned with mine, she knew what I needed without my words. She went slow when I needed her to go slow, sped up when I needed more, she ebbed with my flow.

She studied my bare forearms where my shirtsleeves were rolled up. She loved seeing me like this. The undone business man. A state that only she got to see me in.

She spared a glance for the paperwork strewn across my desk, her lip curling ever so slightly with distaste. She hated my company, hated what it did to me, and our time together. I understood that.

My instinct was to stiffen as she approached, as it would be with anyone else right now if they tried to touch me. But Lo’s touch was like slipping into a warm bath. It soothed where others stung.

She slid into my lap, her hands so small on my chest. She studied me, like a mother studying her sick child, trying to figure out what the ailment was.

I wondered if she’d still look at me like that in ten years, twenty, fifty? Would she still search my face with such yearning, such intensity.

Not if she knew what I’d done.

If I told her that, this would be the last time she ever looked at me with anything other than hatred. Just the thought of telling her turned my stomach.

“You don’t need to surround yourself with flowers, you know. If you’re struggling up here,” she brushed a finger over my temple, “and you need me, just say so. I’ll come running.” She knew what I needed. She always knew. This was why I couldn’t tell her. This was why I couldn’t risk her leaving me again. I nodded, I didn’t know what to say. “Talk to me, Alfie.”

And say what? Where did I begin with the madness in my mind? All I wanted was to sink inside her, to wear her as armour for a while but I couldn’t. Because I was wrong. Dirty and wrong. Just like my father. Just like Charles. They watched us, watched me lure this sweet thing in and lie to her.

“Remember when we didn’t need to talk?” I said. “Remember when all that existed was us?”

“I remember when we made each other insane.” So did I. Never had I been so close to being the best and worst version of myself…until now.

“In a way, things were simpler then. We would just fall into bed and fuck and play until the world disappeared. Shit gets complicated when you get morals involved.” Why did I have tocare so much? Why couldn’t I just switch it off like the rest of the Tell clan?

“You know, we can still fall into bed and let the world fall away.”

I looked at my girl, my mouth practically watering with the thought of burying myself inside her again. “It’s not healthy to live like that though.”

“Everything in moderation, Alfie. You can take me to the edge of insanity, we just can’t live there.” That was the one thing she didn’t understand, getting back from the edge had never been an issue with anyone else. Just her. It was the one place where nothing existed but her and where nothing existed for her but me–why would I ever want to leave a place like that?

“What do you need?”

“Nothing that this new version of me can ask of you,” I muttered.

“And the old version?”

Why would she ask me that? She looked at me like she knew she was playing with fire but carried on anyway. “Would tell you to promise never to leave me.”

She swallowed, apprehension shining in her eyes. “Is that really what you want?”

Was it? I’d filled her head with nothing but me before and it had broken both of us. “I thought it was but no. I just have some shit I’m dealing with. Performance anxiety, I suppose.”

Her mouth quirked up in a small smile. “You? The great Alfie Tell?”

“Not physically, mentally. I want you, I’m just not sure if I’m ready to have you. If I can live up to expectations.”

I’d promised her so much, now it was time to come through and I didn’t feel equipped. I’d promised her I was a good man but I was still a liar.

“Alfie, my expectations are just that you be honest and decent. That you don’t manipulate me or lie to me.”

I’d already failed at that.

“Then I should tell you that I could have told those reporters you were staying at the hotel with me but I let them think you were at your apartment.” It was a test to tell her that, a small test. Two and a half years ago, that little manipulation would be cause for a huge argument, now I wasn’t so sure.