His expression shifts instantly, relief breaking through like sunlight through clouds. He smiles like he’s already won. “Then tell me you do. I’ll accept that too.”
My throat tightens.
“I do love you,” I admit, and I feel like I’m stepping off a ledge. “I never stopped.” My voice shakes, but I don’t take it back. “But we can’t get back together, Luke.”
His jaw clenches, and his body subtly locks into that fighting stance, the one that says he’s ready for impact and ready to give it back. He plants himself harder in front of the door, like intimidation will change my mind.
“And why is that, Andi?”
I swallow. “Promise not to laugh?”
One eyebrow lifts. He’s already halfway amused, which makes me want to throw something at his head. “This should be interesting. I promise I’ll do my best not to laugh. But I’m not going to break another promise by saying I won’t when I don’t even know what you’re about to say.”
Fair.
“I have to protect you,” I say.
His lips twitch. He sucks his cheeks in for a second like he’s trying to physically trap the laugh in his body. He looks down at his feet, shoulders bouncing once, twice.
“Go ahead,” I concede, because I can’t stop it, anyway. “You can laugh.”
The laugh that bursts out of him is full-bodied and warm, the kind that rumbles through his chest and makes the air feel lighter just by existing. It hits me straight in the heart because it sounds likeus. It sounds like nights that weren’t complicated, like hands that didn’t tremble, like love that didn’t come with consequences.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, still grinning despite himself. He wipes a hand over his mouth like it’ll erase the smile. “I’m sorry, baby. It just…came out funny. Care to explain that revelation?”
I go still. The smile drops off my face, and he sobers like he felt the temperature change.
“Luke, it's difficult to discuss this. I know it sounds ridiculous, and I know I’m going to have a hard time convincing you I have to protect you, but I need you to hear me.”
His expression turns serious, almost gentle. “First of all, I’m sorry for laughing. It’s obviously not funny to you. It was just the way it sounded at first.”
“I know,” I say quickly. “I don’t blame you for that.”
He shifts restlessly, as if being still is painful for him. “As much as you want to protect me, I want to protect you. I just don’t understand why you think I need it.”
That’s the problem.
I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to drag him into the truth and watch him become a target just because he loves me.
But I also can’t keep hiding behind vague warnings and expect him to let go.
“Can you sit down and let me explain?” I ask. “I promise I won’t make a run for the door,” I add a small smile to takethe sting out, and he doesn’t even pretend he doesn’t know what I mean.
He sits, but not on the couch.
In the chair closest to the door.
Of course.
I take another breath, then decide the fastest way through is straight through the middle.
"The night I was placed in the psychiatric hospital," I say, "I did attack my foster father with a knife."
Luke’s face goes blank for half a second, like his brain stops to recalibrate. Then his eyes sharpen, focused, protective, but not accusing.
"And I would’ve killed him if I could have," I add. "But not for the reasons they told everyone."
He doesn’t flinch away from me. He doesn’t step back. He doesn’t ask if I’m crazy.
