Page 41 of Breaking Her Trust


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Silence settles deep in my bones. I feel it all the way down to the soles of my feet.

I guess that explains the hair on it. I take a slow breath.

“And that’s everything?” I ask softly wanting assurance that he never slept with her.

Patrick nods once, looking like he expects the world to collapse on him.

I nod back. “Alright.”

His eyes snap to mine. “Are you just saying it for the sake of peace?”

I shake my head immediately. “No. I’m not ok with it. At all. But…” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “It was worse in my head.”

Patrick bites his lip. “So… now what?”

I shrug. “We go on with our lives.”

He looks terrified. “What about us?”

“I love you,” I say honestly. “But I don’t like you right now.”

A tiny, broken smile ghosts across his face. “I don’t like me either.”

I let out a slow breath. “I just need some time.”

He nods, eyes soft but sad. “Take all the time you need.”

There’s a quiet moment between us, neither of knowing what else to say right now. I shift in my seat and ask, “What was the surprise? Your dad said he had something for Milo.”

Patrick huffs out a small laugh, grateful for the change of subject. “Uh… he made him a castle.”

I blink. “A castle?”

He nods. “Yeah. Said he’ll paint it with him.”

My eyebrows lift. “That’s… actually really sweet.”

Patrick laughs under his breath. “Wood is easier to paint than those tiny damn lines in Milo’s books.”

A smile tugs at my mouth before I can stop it. Milo’s artwork isn’t exactly refrigerator-worthy, but we put it there anyway.

After a brief laugh, we slip back into an awkward silence.

I clear my plate, rinse it, and set it in the sink. My body aches with exhaustion. My heart aches worse.

“Well… I’m beat,” I say, brushing my hands on a towel.

Patrick nods, hands shoved into his pockets, looking like he wants to say something and can’t find the words.

I turn to walk away, but stop in the doorway.

I don’t look back when I say it.

“Don’t sleep on the floor. Take the guest room.”

For a second, I expect him to argue, to demand his bed. Then I hear him swallow.

“Okay,” he says softly.