Page 105 of Reckless

He’s still sitting exactly where he was. His elbows rest on his knees now, his hands loosely clasped together, his eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that makes my chest ache.

“I object.”

For one ridiculous second, my brain almost expects the rest of the joke.

But it never comes.

“I would’ve carried the burden with you, Objection.”

The nickname breaks something open inside me. Not because it’s funny anymore, but because it isn’t.

It is gentle.

It is him.

It is us.

My vision blurs. “Yeah.”

“No.” He shakes his head once. “You knew what I would’ve done.” His voice softens another fraction, and somehow that stings more than if he’d shouted. “You forgot who I would’ve done it for.”

The words settle somewhere deep in my chest, pressing against everything I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to hold together. A shaky breath escapes me. “I didn’t tell anyone.” The sentence leaves my mouth before I have the chance to think about it.

The second it does, I know it’s wrong.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “No.” The word comes out quieter this time. I scrub impatiently at my face, frustrated by the tears, myself, and how badly I want to rewind the last ten weeks and make different decisions. “That’s not true.”

Ghost says nothing.

He doesn’t rush in to fill the silence or rescue me from what I’m struggling to admit.

He simply waits.

The same way he always does when he knows the truth is already finding its own way to the surface.

“I t-told Marley.” The confession hangs between us.

Even saying it out loud feels like another betrayal.

“I didn’t tell her everything,” I add quickly, needing him to understand even though I know it doesn’t really change anything. “She knew the messages were coming. She knew someone was trying to shut the inquiry down, and l-later…” My voice catches. “She knew they started mentioning Piper.” I stare at my hands, twisting my fingers together until the ache in my knuckles gives me something else to focus on. “I only showed her one message.” The lump in my throat grows harder to swallow. “I never told her about your bike.”

I still remember opening that photo—the scratch on the tank and the way my stomach had dropped so hard I thought I was going to throw up because I knew they’d been close enough to photograph something that belonged to him.

Close enough to hurt him.

“I couldn’t tell her.”

The apartment falls quiet again.

I can feel Ghost looking at me, but it takes me another few seconds before I can make myself meet his eyes. When I finally do, his expression hasn’t changed, and that almost makes it worse.

“You trusted Marley.” There’s no accusation in his voice, no bitterness, just hurt.

Quiet… honest… hurt.

I have to look away again before words that sound small leave my mouth. “I needed someone to know.” Smaller than they felt at the time.

“And not me?”