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“And those pictures of your mom’s mug shots that everyone got?”

I swallow hard, the humiliation of that particular memory still painfully fresh despite all the years that have passed.

I nod again.

For a moment, Milo doesn’t move. He just stands there beside me, his hands still gripping the counter, his silence somehow more unnerving than anything he could possibly say.

Then, he slowly turns to face me, and I reluctantly turn toward him, bracing myself for whatever he’s about to say.

There’s something behind his expression I can’t quite place. Anger, definitely. But beneath it is something that looks painfully close to hurt.

He takes a step toward me.

“And she’s the reason you pushed me away.”

I swallow dryly before nodding yet again.

“The reason you stopped being my friend.”

I open my mouth, my first instinct to tell him that isn’t true. That I never stopped being his friend.

Except I did. Maybe not in my heart. But everywhere else that mattered.

So I close my mouth again. And nod.

Milo’s face falls, and for a moment, he looks utterly devastated. Still, it’s the guilt in his eyes that gets to me. As though he believes he should have known, should have done something to stop it. Or worse, that he somehow holds himself responsible for someone else’s cruelty.

“I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” I bow my head, unable to keep staring into his eyes. Not when they’re finally showing all the emotion that had been missing from them this entire afternoon.

He slips a finger beneath my chin and gently tips my face back toward his, leaving me no choice but to meet his gaze.

“It matters to me.”

“People will believe what they want to believe, Milo. Nothing I said back then would’ve changed that.”

“I would’ve believed you. I did believe you even when you refused to tell me the whole story.”

The words hit harder than they should.

“Milo—”

“You should have told me.”

My breath hitches when his hand comes up to cup my cheek, his fingers slipping into my hair.

I should move away. Put some distance between us. Though right now, even an ocean’s worth doesn’t seem nearly big enough.

“I should have done a great many things differently,” I whisper. “But it’s all in the past now.”

His eyes search mine. “What about us?”

My heart stutters.

“What?”

“Are we in the past?”