Page 69 of Filthy Little Secret

“Shit happens sometimes like that. People are drunk or high and weird.”

“I’m fine.”

“But what if you hadn’t been? What if something had happened to you? Do you have any idea what that would have fucking done to me if that guy had seriously fucked you up? The thought fucking makes me wanna fucking die.”

His expression shifts from anger to concern in an instant.

“Tim, it’s fine. Please don’t make this a bigger deal than it was.”

“Itisa big deal.”

He must know what I’m thinking because I can see it all over his face. Bruised as it is, he can’t hide how worried he is from me.

I turn and get to work on his omelet, hoping it’ll give me time to think.

You fucking know what you have to do.

But I don’t want to. This time with him has been so fucking amazing. It’s given me fucking hope. Made me want to do better things with my life, but last night reminded me of reality. The sort of reality Jesse was telling me about.

Life isn’t a fairytale.

It’s hard, and people get hurt.

24

MARK

How do I make this better?

I gaze at him from the bar. I want to say something, but every time I try to talk about it, he shuts me down. Won’t even listen.

Last night was a crazy thing that neither of us could have seen coming.

And it wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I should have backed off. Not gotten into the middle of it. I just got so defensive when those guys were fussing at him.

He prepares me a plate with an omelet on it and sets it on the granite countertop in front of me. His jaw is tense, his eyes lost in thought.

“You should stick around,” I say, trying to change the subject. “Let’s eat and go back to bed for a bit.”

“I got to make runs to make up for last night.”

“Can’t you do that later today?”

He knows he can, but he wants to leave as much as I want him to stay. He wants time to think, but I’m worried that’ll make things worse. I need to remind him of what we have, and that it’s too special for him to give up on.

“I’d rather just get it out of the way,” he says. “These guys are gonna be pissed. At least I only had two to knock out.”

He scratches at the back of his neck and then starts around the bar, heading to the bedroom.

I can’t fucking eat right now. He gets dressed, and as he starts into the living room, still not making eye contact with me, I slide off the bar stool and approach him.

“Tim,” I say, trying to force him to look at me. “Tim!”

My tone is severe because it seems like it has to be for me to grab his attention.

He finally looks at me, and I can see a tear forming in his eyes, sparkling in the morning light that pierces through the blinds.

“This is the life I chose,” he says. “But you didn’t choose this.”

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