Page 89 of On Your Knees

“Do you think they’ll kill Jensen? John and Ruby, I mean.”

“Maybe,” I reply. “John anyway. He has a lot to lose.”

“You’ve talked to Jensen, haven’t you? That’s where you went that one morning. The morning you were gone when I woke up.”

“He had the crime scene photos. He wanted to know why the murder was covered up.”

Levi frowns. “You saw pictures of… him? Dead?”

“You can say his name. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. And you definitely weren’t fine that morning.”

Fuck, that’s hard to hear. It makes my throat tighten. It makes me feel like he’s right, even if I don’t want him to be.

“Just hand me my phone. Please, Levi. I have to deal with it. It’s not going to go away.”

Levi sighs and twists around, reaching across the table to grab my phone. As he hands it to me, my eyes snag on his cut-up forearm. He’s only got one small bandage now. The cuts were exploratory, self-punishing.

But then, he didn’t have a knife.

And these things can progress.

I’ve been trying to ignore the marks because I know that my attention on them makes him feel shitty, but when he hands me the phone, I pull his arms to my face and press my lips to the marks.

He whispers, “I’m really sorry. For doing it.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. I just…” I trail off, unsure how to express feelings that I haven’t sorted through. “I’m sorry too.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for either. I’m just glad that we’re together.”

“I really love you, Levi.”

He smiles a little. There’s too much weight on us for the smile to be full and bright and happy, but at least it’s there. “I really love you too.”

I don’t get time to absorb that before my phone buzzes again. I sigh and unlock it. I once again ignore Ruby’s messages and open the thread with Jensen.

My blood runs cold as I stare at the image he’s sent me. The message says, There’s video too. Want to know where I got it?

I set the phone facedown on the table. I close my eyes. I try to breathe. It’s not that bad. It’s not what I expected. I just wasn’t fucking ready for it.

“What is it?” Levi asks.

I shake my head. “Just blackmail.”

“Can I see?”

I don’t want him to see, but I also don’t want to hurt him with my refusal. And he’s already seen so much. He already knows the worst. And, God, I’m exhausted with hiding shit.

“Yeah,” I say.

Levi picks up the phone and stares at the image on the screen. He stares for a long, long time.

Then he asks, “How old are you here?”

“Twenty-one. That’s the night I met Patrick. Ten years ago.”

Levi’s hand is in my hair again, stroking, combing, petting. But he’s still looking at the picture of me. “What happened? Why are you screaming?”