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“No!” The word exploded, startling not only Chris but also herself. “I know who you are, CJ.”
His mouth dropped open, his jaw flapping like a fish.
“You’ve been lying to me this whole time.”
“No, no. I haven’t.” He scrambled down the ladder, jumping off the last few rungs. “Everything I told you was the truth.”
“How can you say that? You’ve been lying to me since the moment we met!”
He reached out and wrapped his arms around her.
“I didn’t mean to. Not on purpose. My name is Chris. I told you the truth about everything, just—”
She pushed away from him. “Just not that you’re some famous actor who’s in magazines every other day for hooking up with showgirls or fighting or whatever it is you do.”
“Bronte, I told you, that’s not who I am anymore.”
“I don’t care about it. I don’t care about what you did or didn’t do. I care that all you talk about is being honest, yet you couldn’t tell me the one basic truth of who you are. After all the time we spent together, you were really hiding from me.” When he tried to get another word in, she held up her hand, silencing him. “And the irony of you being upset with me that I didn’t tell you I had a boyfriend—it’s laughable.”
Then she spied her mother peeking out of her front door and stormed inside the house. “Did you know?” she asked. “Did you know who he was?”
“Wes told me before Chris got here.” At least her mother had the decency to look guilty over her participation in this mess.
Secrets didn’t exist in her family; Bronte couldn’t believe her own mother had kept this from her. “And you never told me?”
“I never told anyone. Wes didn’t want me to. I promised him and Chris I wouldn’t.”
“Bronte.” Chris was behind her, his hat in his hands, his eyes apologetic. “I never meant for you to find out this way.”
“What way did you mean for me to find out? Was I supposed to see you on TV one day? Or maybe you were never going to tell me, and you could keep stringing me along?”
He grabbed her shoulders, desperation dripping from his words. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you myself. Tonight.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before? You had so many opportunities.”
He cupped his hands around her cheeks, and she hated that she loved the way his fingertips felt on her skin. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you. You already had so much going on with Hunter and your dad. It’s not like you’ve had an easy time these last couple of weeks, and I didn’t want to make it harder on you.”
She wanted to believe him. She knew in her bones that he would never intentionally hurt her. Nevertheless, he had. Twisting away from Chris, she saw her father walking out of the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Daddy, tell me you didn’t know too. Tell me I’m not the only one,” she said, furiously wiping at her tears.
He frowned. “I’m sorry, Bean.”
Bronte touched her breastbone, her heart sinking at the betrayal on so many levels. “I have to go.”
She rushed out the door, but Chris was hot on her heels. “Please, Bronte, don’t go.” He snagged her fingers, stopping her before she could reach the curb. “Talk to me.”
She whirled around to face him, barely holding back a shout. “The time for talking is over. You missed it.”
He reached for her but apparently changed his mind at the last minute when she crossed her arms. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “I should have told you. Anytime we were alone, I could have told you. But would it have mattered? Would it have changed how you feel about me?”
“How I felt,” she corrected, and he flinched. “But we’ll never know, will we? You never gave me the chance to know how I felt about the real you.”
“This is the real me.” He held his arms out at his sides. “What you feel is for me, not some made-up image. I’m so sorry, Bronte, but my feelings for you are still the same. I’m falling in—”
“Don’t! Don’t say it, Chris. You messed this up.” She poked him in the chest as hard as she could. “You lost the chance to hold my hand and tell me…” She stopped. The thought of hearing those words, even by her own lips, was too much to bear. “It’s gone. I’m gone.”
