Discomfort scratched me in the silence between us while Simon's panicked gaze searched mine. He wet his lips, parted them to speak—
My hand came to his hair, fingers gripping the strands sternly. "Careful," I muttered. "Because while I can forgive secrets and half-truths, this, I need you to be honest with me about. I need the entire truth."
I hadn't used such a stern and detached cadence to my voice since our first moments together, and I could tell it affected Simon. He winced and struggled to look at me.
Then he closed his eyes and whispered, "It isn't what you think."
My heart tipped over, shattering on the floor beneath me. He did that. He made this mess of me. Releasing my hold on him, I pushed at his shoulder, but Simon countered persistently, bringing his forehead to mine, securing his hand in my hair to keep himself connected to me.
"I promise, Ruith, it isn't what you think."
