Hunter:...
As she waited for him to reply, she got up from the chair, turned on the lights, then snuggled into bed.
I beat the pants off him.
Britt chuckled.
Britt: That must have been a sight.
Hunter: You can only imagine. On second thought, don’t.?
She turned on her side and started typing.
Britt: Have you ever had something you needed to tell someone, but couldn’t bring yourself to do it?
Hunter: Like a big secret?
Britt: Yes. Exactly.
***
Hunter gripped his phone and stared at Britt’s text. Dread flowed through him. Had she somehow figured him out, and this was her way of leading up to telling him she knew about his past?
The thought was crazy and fleeting, but he still had a sick feeling in his stomach. If she ever decided to do an online search of him, she wouldn’t find much. He didn’t use social media and his father had made sure every trace of his past arrests and incarcerations had been scrubbed from the internet. As a top-notch criminal lawyer, he didn’t need his son’s bad publicity affecting his career.
The sick feeling switched to guilt for not being completely honest with her. Then it morphed into curiosity. Was she holding something back from him?
If this has to do with me, don’t worry. You can tell me anything.
He realized it was an egocentric text, but he didn’t want her to fret over talking to him. And eventually he would tell her everything, after he proved to her beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was a different person than the punk kid of his past.
No. It’s not you. It’s... someone else. Two people actually.
He was relieved, but he noticed she was being vague.
Hunter: I suppose everyone’s got a secret or two they need to hold on to. Sometimes people keep secrets to protect someone else.
Britt: I think this is one of those cases. But how do you know when it’s the right time to tell them?
The million-dollar question.
Hunter: I wish I had an answer for you. Only you can determine when it’s time.
Britt: I’ve never kept a secret before. I’ve always been an open book. Although that’s easy to do when you don’t have many friends.
Up until recently, Hunter had also been an open book, but in a bad way. He snuck his first drink when he was twelve, when he was at a friend’s house and they busted open a six pack fromhis parents’ refrigerator while they were out for the day. Ever since then, he’d never tried to hide his drinking or intermittent drug use, at least not much. He always got caught, and upon reflection, he thought that was probably the point—to see how far he could push his parents, to find out how much they would cover for him.
What he never considered was how much pain he’d cause them. Or himself.
Hunter: I’m sure whatever the secret is, you’re keeping it for a good reason.
Britt: Maybe. It’s all so confusing.
He wanted to hop on his bike and meet her somewhere, to hold her hand and reassure her it would be okay. Texting was so impersonal and could be misconstrued, even though it was his primary mode of communication.
Britt: I’ll figure it out.
Hunter: You okay?
