Page 246 of Tell Me Something True

“Just because it’s a cliché doesn’t mean it’s not true. And I’m not using it for anything other than to explain that this is all on me.”

He took a step forward. “Then tell me,” he said, the soft words less command and more plea, but somehow still powerful. “Tell me why you broke the promise you made to me last night.”

He took another step. “Tell me why you ran.”

And another one. “Tell me why you didn’t trust me.”

And a final one, until he towered over her, his broad shoulders blocking the streetlight, his face cast in shadows. “Tell me,” he repeated, gruff and unsteady as he lifted his hand, his fingers trembling as they touched her cheek. “Baby, please tell me something true.”

At the feel of his rough fingertips grazing her skin, her breath whooshed out, as if it had been locked in her chest since this morning and his touch had finally set it free. Shutting her eyes, she let herself lean into his touch. Just for a moment. Long enough to soak it in.

Just in case it was the last time she was able to.

Baby, please tell me something true.

She lifted her head so she could meet his eyes. “I don’t want to.”

His hand dropped as if her whispered words had burned him. Hurt him. “Because you don’t trust me?”

“Because it’s going to change everything,” she cried, unable to keep the tears she’d been fighting all day at bay any longer. They streamed unchecked down her cheeks. “Because I thought I was past it. That she couldn’t hurt me anymore. And now I know I’ll never be free. Not completely.”

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his expression twisted in anguish as if her crying hurt him more than it did her. He cupped her face, wiped his thumbs over the wetness, but his sweetness and the fact that he was suffering over her, for her, only made her cry harder. “What do you mean you thought she couldn’t hurt you anymore? Who is she?”

She couldn’t think straight when he touched her, couldn’t stand on her own two feet when all she wanted was to lean on him. Let him hold her.

Couldn’t face a truth so ugly when he treated her so beautifully.

She reached up and wrapped her hands around his wrists. Gave them a squeeze, then let go, and stepped back so that his hands fell back to his sides. Wiped her forearms over her face to sop up her tears—and realized her sweatshirt was on inside out.

The least of her worries right now.

She dropped her arms. Sniffed. “She,” she said thickly, “is Michelle Walsh.”

Miles went still, his head tipping to the side, his eyes narrowing. She could practically see his cop brain working. Putting the clues together. Gathering evidence.

Coming to conclusions.

“Michelle Walsh,” he said, his tone giving none of those conclusions away. “Reed Walsh’s mother?”

Nausea rose in her throat. She didn’t want to think about Reed. Didn’t want to consider what her running away would have meant for him. For his future.

Didn’t want to think of what her possible responsibility for him could be.

“Yes. Reed’s mother.” She let out a shaky breath. “And mine.”

Chapter 50

Miles’s expression stayed clear of any emotion. Of any judgment.

Or surprise.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

She wished she had his cop ability to remain so unruffled. So calm and contained. She’d been amped up and on edge all day, running on nerves and adrenaline, believing if she just kept moving, she’d be safe.

That she could outrun her fears.

Until she’d realized outrunning her fears also meant running away from Miles and the future they could have together.

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