Page 99 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, but I don’t answer. I don’t know what to say. “Do you think you can forgive me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I asked you flat out yesterday and you lied to me.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“So many reasons, and all of them will sound weak.”

“Try,” I reply, trying to keep a handle on my anger.

“At first, because I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want everyone to know my mother didn’t want me. That I wasn’t good enough.”

“I expect a lot of adopted kids feel that way, Harrison, but I’m not just anyone. I mean, what the hell have we been doing the past several months? I thought we were at the very least friends.”

“I’m so sorry.” He swallows, and another tear rolls down his cheek. “I know you won’t believe me, but I had decided to tell you a few months ago, but then⁠—”

“Your grandfather told you not to.”

“You know about that?”

“I do now.” I rub my eyes tiredly.

“I still was going to tell you,” he says quietly, “but there was never a good time, and in the end, I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

I stare at him, trying to make sense of what’s going on in my head.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispers miserably.

I tilt my head back, resting it on the lip of the bath as I stare at the ceiling. “I’m no prize, Harrison. I’m broken in ways that I don’t even fully understand. I don’t know how to navigate this any more than you do, but I at least thought we were in this together.”

“Sam,” he chokes out.

“It wasn’t that you couldn’t trust me. It’s that I thought I could trust you.” He chokes back a sob and more tears fall. Unable to bear his pain, I turn and take his face in my hands, wiping his tears away. “I’m not saying this to hurt you, Harrison, but you have to understand. I almost lost you. You lay bleeding in my arms, and if Olivia hadn’t shown up, you could’ve died, and I would’ve blamed myself for the rest of my life.”

“Sam, no.” He sniffs. “There’s no one to blame here but me.”

“I think there’s plenty of blame to go around. But the point I’m trying to make is, I understand. Viv being your mother was an incredibly personal and painful subject for you. However, keeping that information from us put everyone at risk, but most importantly, yourself. You were ready to throw yourself in that demon trap and sacrifice your life to close it, and that would’ve killed me. We should have gone into that prepared, we should’ve known you were a target.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says desolately.

I let out a slow exhale and press my forehead to his. “I know, Prickles.”

He sucks in a sharp breath at the use of the nickname.

“I get that this is hard for you, opening up to other people, but you’re not alone. You never were.” My fingers tighten on his face. “I’m here. I’ve been here all along and I’m on your side. Why can’t you see that?”

“Please don’t leave me,” he breathes. “I know I’m not—I can’t⁠—”

His voice cracks, and I press my lips to his briefly. “I’m not going anywhere, but I think we need to make an agreement here and now.”

“What?”

“No lies,” I tell him firmly. “Not by omission, not by evasion, not even for the greater good. You and I are each coming into this with personal baggage and emotional scars. Neither of us knows what we’re doing, so we have to be able to talk to each other. We have to. Our lives are never going to be normal, not with the world we exist in. Not with everything that’s going on. We don’t know what’s coming for us, but we have to be able to trust each other, especially when it comes to each other’s safety.”

His eyes search mine and then he nods. “Okay,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” I breathe.