Page 68 of Faking It

Far from it. I’m terrified, standing on a precipice with the choice to go back or take a leap. Going back will eat at my conscience. Taking the leap could make me sleep better at night.

“You mentioned burdens earlier, and I saw that lightness on your face when you opened up to me. I know it wasn’t easy, and I haven’t been the nicest person to you, yet you trusted me enough with that information.” My heart races in my chest as I lift my head to look at him. “There’s something I need to confess.”

Gideon nods, curiosity lining his features as he offers his hand. I slip my hand in his, feeling the coarseness of his palm, and it reminds me that he’s not the guy I’d thought he was. He’s not spoiled and entitled. He’s hardworking, friendly and open. It’s safe to meet him halfway. I squeeze his hand as we move forward. He looks at me enquiringly, and I give him an assuring smile. I’m okay. The squeeze means I trust him.

Gideon guides me to the chair he’d just been sitting in, then slides another one in front of me. I quickly scan the room, taking in the massive computer system, doing a double take when I see the photos on the wall. My eyes zone in on the portrait of a dark-skinned girl with piercing green eyes, sitting against the backdrop of what looks like a water fountain. With her head held high, shoulders straight, expression fierce, she reminds me of a queen on her throne.

“Wow… that’s a gorgeous photo,” I comment, for an instant forgetting why I’m in here.

His cautious expression instantly transforms like dawn of a new day. “Thank you.”

“Huh?”

“Thank you,” he repeats, pointing to the portrait. “It’s a sample of my work.”

I gape. “Your work?”

“Yup.” He sweeps his hand around the room. “Another secret I can’t afford to tell, but I trust you. I’m the owner of a photography company, Ana.”

“But, how—”

“No.” He stops me by squeezing my knee. “This isn’t about me. Not right now. Tell me what’s happening withyou.”

“Please don’t judge me when I tell you this,” I caution.

Gideon scoffs. “Ana, I told you I’m dead broke. I’d be crazy to judge you for anything.”

“You say that now…”

There’s a determined gleam in his eyes as he leans forward, the muscles rippling in his shoulders. “I don’t care what it is. I won’t hold it against you. Trust me, Ana. Please.”

He’s being genuine. I see that. The lingering doubt is just a defense mechanism, which is totally unnecessary. Staring deep into his eyes, past those golden orbs and into his soul, I’m confident my secret will be safe with him.

Taking a deep breath, I plunge on. “I almost killed someone.”

The only inclination Gideon heard is the slight tilt of his left brow. Otherwise, his expression gives no sign how he feels about those four words.

“Um…” I swallow. “It was a stabbing incident—self-defense,” I add hurriedly, resting my hand on his knee assuredly. He glances down at my hand. I jerk it away, clasping it with the other. “I spent two years in prison for what I did.”

Gideon nods slowly, his expression still unreadable. “What happened?”

I sigh, knowing that was the easy part. “I stabbed a man who tried to rape me.”

His fingers curl on his thighs.

“He was my mother’s boyfriend, one of many. He had his eyes set on me the second she brought him home. It took him no time to make an advance on me. I told my mom. He denied it. She took his side, which didn’t surprise me. He wasn’t the first to make a move on me, but he was the first to take it too far.”

The dark trail flashes across my memory. Sitting here, I see myself running barefoot, my loud screams piercing the silent night as I tried to outrun the bearlike man who chased me. I look down at my trembling hands resting on my lap, remembering the breath-stealing terror when he grabbed a lock of my hair from behind.

“That night, I was home alone when he came, asking for Margaret. He knew she’d be out of town. I heard her telling him the day before.”

“Which meant he came for you,” Gideon growls, fury etched on his face.

Surprised by his interjection, I nod. “The minute he barged through the front door, I knew what he wanted. I took the back door to get away, and he chased me, then caught me a short distance away. He ripped my dress off, and I saw the knife in his waist. He got distracted while removing his pants, so I took a chance and grabbed it. Then I… I…”

“You fucked him up,” he finishes for me.

“I had no choice,” I explain beseechingly. “He was going to—”

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