Page 51 of The Betrayal You Serve

"I know," I say, holding my hand up, not needing him to say the words that will rip my heart out all over again.

"He said you did it all alone."

I nod. "I didn't tell Mom until I came back for Zayn's graduation. It was make it or break it by that point then. If I didn't confess then I really don't know what would have happened next."

He drops his head into his hands and it physically hurts to see how much this is ripping him apart. It's exactly why I didn't want to tell him—them—now.

"I'm okay, Lee. I'm stronger now. I'm in a better place and I’m able to deal with it all."

"You couldn't even bear to hear me say the words."

"Just because I'm doing better, it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."

He nods in understanding and scoots back to sit beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his body.

"I guess I owe you now," he whispers.

"What?"

"A secret for a secret, right?"

"No, Lee. Just because you know it, doesn't mean I expect anything. I'd have told you when I was ready no matter what."

"Really?"

"I really like to hope so, although I have no idea when that would have been. I don't expect anything from you, and I know that when the time is right, if you want to, you can come to me. I'll never hold it against you that you don't want to talk about whatever it is."

"Fucking hell, Let. He doesn't deserve you."

"Something we agree on."

Leon drops his lips to my hair and holds me tight.

"I never thought I'd say this, but… he needs you, Let. And I think you just might need him too."

"It doesn't matter. How can I trust him?"

"The same way he can you."

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"It's not about that. You both screwed up. But equally, neither of you knows the truth about what really happened. Just talk to him."

"He doesn't want to talk. He just wants to punish me."

"Make him, Let. He's hurting just like you are. Only, he deals with it differently."

"Okay," I breathe.

"What are you working on?" he asks after long minutes of comfortable silence.

"A psych paper."

He picks up my notebook and looks at my notes.

"I did this class last year. Want some help?"

A smile twitches at my lips. "That would be nice."