It wasn’t that he didn’t want Brinton to know him. In fact, it was startling how natural it was telling her about every other part of his life, including his festering lie.
Even if they weren’t working together on her article, he’dwantto know someone like her. Someone dedicated to giving a voice to the voiceless, even if that person was undoubtedly privileged, like himself.
It’d been seventeen years, and yet talking about his mother brought him right back to the agonizing night he lost her. He felt powerless then, and still felt powerless now.
“Can we please talk about anything else?” he pleaded, eyes closed and head thudding against the headrest.
She leaned close enough that he breathed in her sweet scent. But even that couldn’t quell the stinging micro-needles prickling his skin.
“I know this isn’t easy to talk about, but I want to understand…”
He opened his eyes and met hers. They were steeped in earnestness.
“I hope you know that you can trust me with this, and anything else you want to tell me,” she added.
Before he could think straight, the words gushed out. “I can’t trust anyone with that part of my life.”
This was another lesson Jamie learned from his father, who long discouraged any conversation about his mother’s death. He claimed “living in the past” would make Jamie weak. Unfortunately, as a grieving young man, he’d believed him. Jamie wanted to be strong for his mother, even if he couldn’t see her or touch her.
So he’d cauterized the wound, and tried to move on.
“Jamie, I know what it’s like to be scared…”
Gently, she caressed his shoulder. For days, he’d craved her touch, but at this moment, he felt backed into a corner.
He flinched away.
“Then why are you pushing me? Unless you really wanna know for the article, but you don’t wanna tell me straight up?”
Instantly, he regretted those words too. But that’s what happened whenever he thought about his mother. His sense of reality morphed into pure survival instinct, like he was clinging, white-knuckled, from a jagged cliff, one breath from meeting a brutal end.
Brinton’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she angled her body toward the window, cast in an eerie glow as yellow and orange neon lights whizzed by.
God, had he gone too far? She probably thought he was a complete asshole. But he couldn’t even articulate how painful ripping out those sutures would be.
He stayed quiet, hoping she’d sense how much he was struggling. Hoping she’d forgive him.
Jamie flicked his signet ring around his pinky.
“Brinton, I didn’t mean…” he said, a few moments later.
“You think I’d lie to you?” All emotion had drained from her voice. Her eyes stayed fixed on her window.
“No.” He exhaled shakily. “It’s not something I can explain.”
“I feel like I’m putting myself out there, for you. And you’re…hiding.”
He rubbed his brow. “I’m putting myself out there for you too. Brinton, I re-signed my contract. A two-album deal—for you.”
Fuck me.
This was exactly thewrongway to tell her this development. He’d absolutely gone too far.
“What?” she screeched, eyes wide as she finally faced him. “Jamie, why—I don’t understand. I thought you trusted me to tell your story?”
“I’m trying to protect you,” he gritted out. His head was a hornet’s nest. The harder he fought to find the words, the more viciously his thoughts swirled.
“Protect me from what?”
