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“So, you lied to us?” He crosses his arms, eyeing me from head to toe.
“I didn’t lie. I never wanted to talk about my past.”
Tilting his head, London arches a brow. “What else have you lied about?”
“I don’t know what crawled up your ass, but I haven’t lied about anything. You went from being all sweet to being an ass.”
He shrugs. “Well, I hate being lied to.”
“I didn’t lie, asshole.” Tossing my hands in the air, completely fed up, I storm off, passing Shane and Afton, who call after me.
What is wrong with him? How dare he?
I didn’t lie. I just never talk about my horrid past. Even when I was with Dayton, I had to do what my parents said, with Easton, and Ben. Ben joined in. Did I want to do it? No. Did I participate? Yes—for my life.
Mostly, I laid there—can’t really call it participating. I laid there and did what they asked.
And I never said anything. To protect the ones I loved. I should have. I should have said something, anything.
Does this make me a bad person?
“Hey.” I jump when I register Silas calling my name.
“Shit,” he says, “didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay,” I reply. “Just thinking deeply. I didn’t hear you.”
“Everyone is looking for you,” he informs me.
I’m sitting on a rock near the magnolia tree patch. I didn’t even know I walked that far when I was thinking about what London said.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” I mumble.
“Want to talk about it?”
“I might as well,” I mutter, hugging my knees to my chest, and propping my chin on my arms.
“You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. Or just give me the general idea.”
General idea? I can do that.
Plucking a piece of rubble from my side, I shift my gaze to Silas as he sits next to me. “Have you ever done something you regret but did it because you had to or were made to do it?”
“Done plenty I regret,” he admits, leaning back on his elbows and stretching out his legs, “but I made that choice.”
Squinting down at him, I ask, “But what if you didn’t have a choice?”
“Someone made you do something, and didn’t give you a choice, is this correct?” His eyes appear sympathetic with genuine concern as he asks the question.
“Yeah. Somehow London found out and asked me about it. I told him the truth, but he says I lied. I didn’t lie, I just don’t talk about my past.”
“Then it’s not really lying. If he would have asked you, would you have told him the truth?”
“I would and I did. But lately he’s become an asshole. And I don’t know why.”
“Stress?” Silas asks, sitting up and lifting a questioning brow.
“That’s what he says. But this, what he just did right now, I don’t know what that is.”
