Monte didn’t flinch. “Yes.”
The silence exploded between us.
I stared at him. “Monte?—”
He looked at me then, and for once, he didn’t try to hide anything.
“I love you, Portia. I’ve loved you for a long time. You just never saw it. Or maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t want to deal with it.”
Silas turned to me, wild and wounded. “You knew?”
“I didn’t,” I said, stunned. “Not like that.”
Monte went on. “I didn’t say anything because I knew what you needed. You needed someone steady. Someone who didn’t bring blood and shadows through your door.”
“And so you what?” Silas snapped. “Watched from the sidelines? Slipped into her life when I was gone?”
“I stayed when you vanished,” Monte said coldly. “That’s the difference.”
I stepped between them, heart racing. “Stop it. Both of you.”
Silas’s jaw ticked. “He’s not who you think he is, Portia.”
“And neither are you,” Monte bit out.
“You’re both exhausting,” I whispered.
They turned to me.
I was shaking now, the night too loud, the scent of chlorine and gardenia wrapping around me like a noose.
“You,” I said, pointing to Silas, “didn’t show up last night. You promised me the truth, then kept me in the dark.”
“And you,” I turned to Monte, “stood in the shadows watching me sleep. Maybe the tracker wasn’t yours, but you didn’t tell me about it, either.”
They were both quiet.
And then I laughed. Broken and bitter.
“God. Maybe I’m the idiot in this story.”
“No,” Monte said, quietly. “You’re the only one who’s been honest.”
Silas looked at me, pain etched in every line of him. “I came here to talk. To tell you everything. But now?—”
“Now what?”
“Now I don’t know what’s happening.”
I rubbed a hand over my face, suddenly bone-deep tired again.
“I need space,” I said.
They both stiffened.
“Not forever,” I added. “Just tonight. I need to think.”
Silas stepped back. Monte didn’t move.
