He comes closer to me but says nothing. He just stares in silence. His mouth gaping open and closed like some clueless fish. At this point, he’s standing too close for me to breathe, so I stand up and make my way to the other side of the room.
I hate this.
“Jesus, Carter, Say something!”
More silence. More gaping.
My hands go to my hair, pulling at it in agitation. “Jesus, don’t you get it? Haven’t I been clear over the last three years you’ve known me?” My voice breaks, but I push through, turning to him from where I stand in the kitchen—the island now safely between us.
“I will always need the ugly truth over any beautiful lie. Because, Carter, at the end of the day, the truth, even when ugly, is still precious to me. It’s still a diamond, and the pretty little lie is just a bejeweled piece of shit.”
He looks like he wants to argue with me here, so I put my hand up, cutting him off.
“Omitting truths from me fills you up with just as much bullshit as flat out lies. But you did both to me, didn’t you, Carter.” He takes a step toward me. I take a step back.
“Either scenario,” I hiss. “Either shitty situation still leads to trust being forcibly removed from ourpreviousrelationship.” I’m practicallywhispering by this point. The icy silence boxing us in does not require violence or impassioned speech. Just cold, hard truth.
“Previous…” Carter chokes out, eyes wide. He’s breathing too fast, too erratic.
Too fucking lateto fix it, Carter.
“Tell me the truth, please, Carter.”
“I am telling you the truth, Becks.” Carter starts, taking another step towards me. I lift my hands up again to ward him off.Don’t touch me.
“Where the fuck were you, Carter! Just tell me, please. Please just tell me the truth.” Panic starts clawing its way through me. I need to leave, or fight, or simply slink to the floor and hold all of my pieces together while they’re trying to fall apart. Ineedhim to be honest, but I wish I could believe the lies.
Carter stalks around the island and crowds me against the cabinets, reaching for my hands. I jerk them away from him.
He grabs them anyway and holds tight.
“I was at Tay’s place.” He says quietly. Resigned.
I hold still and stop trying to pull away. Maybe I stop breathing. I silently wait for him to break me, to break us.Tay’s place.
“Becks…” he sighs. “I don’t want to say anything else, it’s nothing. It was nothing!” He ends on a partial shout, jerking my hands in his emphasis.
I want to do so many things, but I wait—my body taut in warning, in preparation to get out,run.
“I gave her a ride to and from the music thing yesterday after work. Her car has been acting up again…she said she wanted to seewhat the big deal is.”He’s speaking fast, holding my hands on this side of too tightly. “I was just going to drop her off, then she told me she didn’t feel very safe surrounded by people she didn’t know. I stuck around and brought her home after.” He takes a shuddering breath. “When I pulled up to the house, she told me that her door was caught, so I leaned over her to open it—Jesus, Becky, please? I want to stop.” Our faces are so close, and I see the agony there.But that doesn’t change anything, does it?
“You didn’t just open the door.”
“No.” He breathes out the word.
“You put your hands on her. You touched her.”
“Yes, but?—”
“You kiss her?” My voice is louder in accusation.What’s happening right now?
“No!” Loud, emphatic.
Hepauses.
“Well, yes, but Becks, I?—”
I rip my hands away from his strong grip.
