Page 123 of The Lies I've Told
I caught movement in the corner of my eye, and as I looked up, I felt my heart beat for the first time in days.
“Millie,” I breathed out.
She stood in the center of my living room, looking more radiant than I’d remembered.
Was it possible that she’d grown even more beautiful in our short time apart?
I stepped forward, wanting to run to her, to pull her into my arms and never let go. But I stopped myself.
Nothing had changed.
I was still going blind, still tumbling into darkness.
And I wouldn’t drag her down with me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my emotions betraying me. I cleared my throat and stood straighter, but it was hard not to see that she was destroying me with her mere presence.
“I flew home today,” she said. “Or rather, I flew back to Florida. I can’t really call it home any longer because it never felt like it. But I went anyway because I couldn’t stand to be in my actual home because of you.”
“I’m sorry—”
She held up a single finger, cutting me off. “No, I’m speaking now. You had your chance. It’s my turn.”
I went to put my hands in my pockets, until I realized the giant cast I still had prevented me from doing so, causing me to just stand there awkwardly instead. “Very well.”
I could see she was struggling with her words, her emotions on edge. “I went back to Florida to get some much-needed air. I needed time to figure out how to move on from you.”
I swallowed down a lump of guilt into my gut.
“But not five minutes into my well-deserved pity party, I found myself face-to-face with your brother. And that stone bird.”
“What?” I glanced down at the bird and then back to her, my eyes wide with shock.
I could tell by the look of betrayal written all over her face just what my brother had gone to her to do. He had gone to do what I couldn’t.
Tell her the truth.
And I’d never felt so ashamed in my life.
“It wasn’t his place to tell you,” I said softly.
Her lip quivered as she tried to keep her composure. “No, it was yours.”
This time, I did move. I trekked forward, intent on closing the gap between us, but she held up her hand, and I stopped.
“Please don’t,” she whispered. “Otherwise, I won’t be able to get this out, and you deserve better. We deserve better.”
“I don’t understand.”
She looked down at her feet, fumbling with her hands, a show of insecurity as she found her words. “You once asked if I trusted you. Do you remember?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“You asked me to trust you, and so I did. I did so because I loved you, because I believed you would someday trust me in return with whatever it was you were holding so tightly to your chest.”
“I do trust you,” I whispered.
“No,” she said, “you don’t. That’s the thing about trust, Aiden. Trusting someone means allowing that person to make their own decisions because, in the end, you trust they’ll do the right thing. You never even gave me the option.”
