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I didn’t want to lie to him, and I clutched my stomach as a stab of pain hit me. The thought of losing him was a thousand times worse than the prospect of being fired but he deserved someone who was a hell of a lot less messed up than me.
For the first time, the seriousness of what I'd done hit me full force. I’d thought about
it only in separate pieces. How I could lose my job, how I'd hurt Miguel, how my vendetta against McCoy had fuelled Taylor to make up a further lie, unwittingly putting me in a position where I was the only one who could get him out of trouble.
Potentially, I could lose everything.
I'd have to go home. Back to Cornwall. Back to reality.
If I’d been a weaker person, I would’ve cried at my own stupidity. But I’d brought the whole situation on myself, and wallowing in self-pity wouldn't change that.
I stood up. “Well, wish me luck.”
“Good luck, Leah. I hope everything works out.”
“Me too.”
.
Chapter 13: Don't Say A Word
I knew the earliest I would get to talk to Miguel would be during lunch, but there was no way I could confess at the training ground with so many people around. Instead, I went for a guilty bite to eat with him at noon and decided I’d tell him everything after work.
We planned to meet in the café across the street, ironically, the same café where Jesse said he first met Taylor. As the minutes slowly ticked by, my stomach wound itself into a tight knot of guilt and anxiousness. But I had to be honest with him and deal with whatever the consequences might be.
My gut flip-flopped with shame when Miguel greeted me with a huge smile. He was still slow on his feet after the beating he’d taken from McCoy, and my hatred for myself multiplied because I was about to strike him another painful blow. When I looked into his brown, puppy-dog eyes, my resolve to be truthful almost broke.
“Hey, angel,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. “You wanna order some food?”
I wanted to. Anything so I didn’t have to tell him. Instead of backing out, I took a deep breath.
“Miguel. There's something I need to talk to you about first.”
First. Like he’s going to stay once you’ve ripped out his heart.
Concern crossed his face as he sat down. “What’s wrong?”
“Last weekend in Boston, McCoy showed up. He said he wanted to talk to me about Taylor.”
“He didn't hurt you, did he?” Miguel asked, taking my hand in his and intensifying the feeling of sickness that crept over me.
“No,” I assured him. “No. He didn't hurt me. But Stacey’s boyfriend invited him to the party. I tried to make up reasons why he couldn't come but Billy insisted,” rolling my eyes I added, “Billy thinks McCoy is God.”
With a chuckle, Miguel said, “That must have made your weekend.”
I didn't know what to say. I couldn’t say I’d hated Radleigh's presence when I was about to make a full confession, but it was sort of the truth. I had hated his presence. I'd hated him being in the flat and at the party.
And I’d really hated the morning after.
“Anyway,” I went on, choosing to brush past his comment, “when we got back from the party, McCoy couldn't find his wallet and … he asked to stay the night.”
Far from looking horrified, Miguel seemed a little amused. I knew he thought I’d been oh-so-kind for letting the man I hated stay in my flat for the night. For the briefest moment, I thought I might leave it at that. Why ruin everything because of one stupid mistake?
You cannot go on lying to him. Not only is it unfair, it will eat away at you until you confess.
“Probably wasn't the smartest move,” he said. “I mean, with his suspension and all, but it's not that big a deal.”
My insides began to squirm with the discomfort of it all. How could I tell him? It would break his heart and that was the last thing I wanted to do. But there wasn't any other option. At least not one I’d be happy to live with. I had enough secrets in my past already.
