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“I just wanted to talk to you about something important.” She tensed immediately, and I put my hand up. “It’s about your father.”
“My dad?” Her frown deepened, and she pushed her hair behind her ears. “What do you mean?”
I pulled up the report on my tablet, then handed her an annotated copy. My notes were organized and straight to the point.
“His death. You mentioned that he received a clean bill of health not long before he passed.” I put the tablet in front of her. “I was sent his autopsy report, and it looks like his illness wasn’t an illness. He was likely poisoned, or his medical treatment was sabotaged.”
Taylor stared down at the report, slowly pulling her hands back into her lap.
“What do you mean? How do you know?” she asked.
“Several of his biomarkers were off in ways that don’t happen naturally,” I said. “Essentially, he might have been slightly sick, but someone or something pushed him over the edge. Whoever did it, assuming my assessment is correct, was highly skilled.”
Taylor’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. She looked at me, horror in her eyes.
“Why did you look into this?” she asked.
My brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what made you put this together and just put it in front of me without much warning?”
The edge in her tone gave me pause, but I pushed forward. “I had some suspicions, and I investigated them. I thought you’d want to know.”
“I do, but…” A tear spilled over her cheek. Shit. “I feel like you just threw this down in front of me in such a cold way. It literally feels like you dumped ice water over my head out of nowhere.”
“Taylor…” I wasn’t sure what to say. How else was I supposed to tell her? I’d come in straight. No use in softening the edges of something that was impossible to soften. Right?
“Thank you for telling me.” She started crying. “But I just wish you’d considered my feelings more. You could have warned me or told me in a softer way or something. My whole life has been upended, and this is upending it even more.”
I looked down at the table, guilt creeping up on me.
“I thought telling you in a straightforward way would be best,” I said. “I don’t hedge anything. You should know this about me now.”
The moment the words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d made a mistake. Points of color appeared on her cheeks, more out of anger than the tears streaming down her face.
“I do know this about you. And I know that you’re still holding back with me,” she said, her voice gaining strength. “You’re more than willing to give me everything when it comes to the physical, but I need to see your softer side.”
Irritation fought its way to the top of my consciousness. “I thought our relationship worked despite that. Do you not have Harrison to take care of those needs? The softer ones?”
She ran her hands down her face, exasperated. “You two aren’t vending machines for my needs. I don’t go to the Harrison machine to get cuddles and affection, then to you when I want to feel protected. I have to feel like you’re open with me to have this work. Have I not given you reason to trust me?”
She hadn’t given me any reason not to trust her. But she wasn’t the problem. I was.
“I trust you,” I said. “But…”
“But?”
“I don’t know.” I pulled my tablet back to myself.
“Then talk to me,” she said. “What makes it hard to open up?”
I swallowed. I tried to convert the tightness in my chest and dryness of my mouth into actual coherent words. But it wasn’t working.
“It’s complicated,” was the only answer I had.
“In what way? I need to understand.” Her frustration was obviously growing. “You trust me. You’re attracted to me. You care about me. What else could we possibly need to be fully open with each other?”
I blew out a breath through my nose. “There’s so much more than that, Taylor. Letting each other in isn’t as easy as opening a door.”
