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“You hurt me.”

“I know.”

No excuses.

No qualifications.

Just that.

His hand slips from my arm, but I catch it before he can pull away completely. His fingers close around mine.

“I know,” he says again. “And I'm so fucking sorry.”

My eyes burn.

“I trusted you.”

“I know.”

“And when it mattered, you didn't trust me.”

Pain flashes across his face.

“I know.”

“You assumed the worst without even asking.”

“I did.”

“And finding out how everything started...” I swallow. “That hurt too.”

“I should've told you.”

“Yes.”

“I wanted to.”

“But you didn't.”

“No.”

He looks down at our joined hands.

“I was afraid.”

I blink. Mitchell doesn't say things like that. At least not easily.

“Of what?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Losing you.”

His thumb moves over my knuckles.

“I kept telling myself I'd tell you tomorrow. Then tomorrow came and you were still there.”