Page 88 of Captivating Mr. Second Chance

“I’m sorry that you feel you couldn’t talk to me.” She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “This is really important, Ethan, and I would like to be there for you for whatever you need.”

“You are there for me.”

“After the fact.” She shook her head slightly, her blue eyes—now bloodshot—focused on the ceiling as she blinked rapidly. After a moment, she dropped her full attention on him once more, her face and eyes dry. “I bet this has been really hard for you but also, maybe, really nerve-racking.” When he nodded, she narrowed her eyes. “And you’ve been hiding it from me. This is a big part of your life, and it feels like you purposely kept me out of it.”

“I kept everyone out of it,” he said in defense of himself, though he immediately realized it wasn’t much of a defense.

“I’m not everyone.”

“No, you’re not.” He wrapped his fingers around her hand on the table. “You mean everything to me.”

“But not enough to tell me.”

“Laney,” he said on a sigh. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I kept this from you, but I think you’re making it into a bigger deal than it is.”

“That’s what you think,” she said, taking her hand back to set it in her lap. “But I’m telling you how I feel. Not even five minutes ago, you said that you gave me no reason to distrust you, saying you’ve never lied to me, yet you did.”

Ethan lifted his glasses to rub the heels of his hands in his eyes. This was not how he’d seen this conversation going. “I was going to tell you about Marcela, today even. I told her all about you.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

“Don’t do that,” he said, motioning to her placid features in place. That perfect veneer she so often wore.

“I know I have trust issues.” She placed her hand against her chest. “I can’t help that. And I know you’re not Bobby, which is the reason we’re having this conversation instead of me running out your door, but I can’t help feeling left out.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, frustrated that he had to keep saying it. “I won’t do it again.”

Silence sat between them like a physical obstacle on the table, and Ethan finally picked up his fork. “We should eat. This is probably almost cold.”

“I’m not really hungry,” she said and stood up.

“Seriously?” The question came out with more anger than he intended, and she threw him a look over her shoulder as she walked away.

“Seriously. I’m going to change and go home.”

His fork clattered on his plate as he pushed away from the table to follow her. “You’re really that mad at me over this?”

In his bedroom, she turned her back to him, lifting his shirt over her head. “I’m not mad. I just don’t feel like sitting around here today.”

“So, you’re thatupsetwith me, then?”

She didn’t answer, only tugged her dress over her head, the skirt covering up her butt and thighs when she wiggled out of his sweats, almost as if she didn’t want him to see any part of her. She put her hair up in a hurried knot, a few loose curls dangling at the nape of her neck, before she spun around in search of her shoes. He found them on the floor by the closet and handed them to her.

“That summer,” she started, slipping her feet into them, and he didn’t need it pointed out which summer she referred to. “You never told me you were going to school early. You let me think we hadallsummer. I started getting a funny notion in my head about us being together for the long-term.” She lifted her arms at her sides. “I imagined us visiting each other at school. I thought we could’ve made a real go of it.” She dropped her hands back down, and they landed with a smack against her legs. “I got my hopes up, and then all of a sudden, you had to leave. You told me last minute, as if you thought it was no big deal.”

“I know. I was dumb. But you can’t keep punishing me for that.” He tossed his thumb over his shoulder to their past. “For that! For trying to keep what we had a little longer. You still can’t be mad about that.”

“I’m not. I’m only trying to explain that, back then, you didn’t think it was a big enough deal to tell me. Similarly to now. I understand you have a lot going on in your life right now. Believe me, I know what it feels like to want to keep it to yourself, but I’m trying to tell you how I feel. Which is out of the loop. You were trying to protect yourself then like you are now, and it makes sense.” The corner of her mouth dropped as her voice cracked. “Only, it makes me feel like shit. You want me to implicitly trust you, although you don’t implicitly trust me. At least, not enough to include me.”

Ethan stood, slack-jawed at her explanation. He never intended to make her feel like that, and never even considered how keeping the situation with Marcela to himself might hurt her. But when she put it like that, he felt guilty.

“Or, ya know…” She forced a smile. “Maybe I’m making a mountain out of a molehill because I can’t shake my baggage with Bobby, and that’s not your fault. Either way, I don’t feel like sorting it out in front of you, so I’m going to head home. Okay?”

Not that he would ever force her to stay, but he answered anyway. “Okay.”

She brushed past him with a murmured, “I’ll talk to you later.”

Then she walked out to the living room, the quiet snick of his door like a bomb going off in the silence she left in her wake.

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