Page 185 of Never Tell Secrets

I carried the chest up to my room and there, in the space he’d made for me, I read page after page of Alfie’s thoughts, an endless ode to whatever fucked up connection we had.

I read until my mind was clear, until my pain was shrunk and the clouds had cleared and all I could see ahead of me were clear, blue skies.

Fifty-Eight

Iawoke surrounded by Alfie’s memories. The sun was setting outside, casting a burnt orange glow across the room. I must have slept the day away.

For the first time in a long time, my future with Alfie felt solid.

Would I be insane to consider this? After everything he’d done, could he really be trusted? I wasn’t sure, yet giving him the chance didn’t seem as dangerous as it had a week ago.

I studied the framed sketches of our Evergarden he'd hung on the wall. The girl who drew those had a head full of dreams and a heart full of hope that all of them would come true. I wanted to be that girl again.

A knock on my door disturbed my thoughts. I shuffled off the bed and opened it, finding Alfie on the other side. I fought the urge to throw myself into his arms. We weren’t there yet.

“What are you doing here?”

He arched a brow at me. “This is my house.”

“I know but I…I thought you would be in Dubai for a few more days.”

Alfie stood quiet, the darkness of the hallway shrouding him. “That was the plan.”

But something had changed…that’s what he left unsaid. My stomach started to churn wondering what could be wrong but before I could speak, his gaze drifted to the pile of journals scattered across the bed.

“I’m sorry, maybe I should have asked first. Are you angry?”

“No, my life is yours, as are my secrets.” The weight of those words wasn’t lost on me. The man who had once hidden everything now lay it all bare. Once again, I could see those clear skies ahead. “What prompted this?”

The answer to that wasn’t simple. We needed to have this conversation but I didn’t want to do it in a doorway. “Come in, we can talk in here.”

His brows knitted but before I could ask what was wrong, he stepped inside. I watched his eyes skirt around the room like a child with his hand in the cookie jar. This was my room, a space he’d promised he would never enter without an invitation. I’d thought he’d be pleased I allowed him in.

“So,” I started, taking a deep breath, “I came over last night because all week I’ve been trying to process…well, everything. One of the things that hurt me the most about all of this is that you continued the lie about the cameras even after you came back into my life. But yesterday a thought occurred to me and I needed to find out if it was true.” I picked up one of the journals and held it out to him. “You tried to tell me about the cameras right at the beginning…you did tell me.”

He took the book, scanning the page before tossing it onto the bed. “Not explicitly I didn’t, Lola. I didn’t tell you what to read and when I confessed about my father and brother, I let you think they were the biggest secrets in there.”

I frowned. This wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. “I know that but you?—”

“It’s not an excuse for my behaviour so please don’t use it as one.” His teeth gritted in frustration. “This doesn’t absolve me of guilt. I need you to understand that.”

“I do, I just…what’s going on?” I folded my arms over my chest, that sick feeling in my stomach growing. “I thought you’d be happy I’d found a reason not to hate you.”

“Maybe you should hate me.” He paced the room, tension humming around him like a thick cloud. “Maybe I shouldn’t be in this room at all.”

“I want you to be.”

“But you shouldn’t!” he snapped and I flinched. “I’m sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Lola, I have this sick feeling in my gut and it’s been there for months, growing. I thought it would go away when I told you about the cameras but it's lingering.”

“Yeah it's called guilt.”

“It’s more than that.” He shook his head, his grey eyes swimming with conflict. “There are moments between us when it’s so perfect, you’re right there and I look at you and I feel…”

“Home,” I finished for him.

He looked up, a bittersweet smile playing around his mouth. “Yes, but what I’m realising is that what I feel for you has the power to turn me back into the person I’ve worked so hard not to be and you…” he trailed off again, looking at me in a way that had my skin growing cold.

“And I what?” I asked, fighting to keep the tremor out of my voice.