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I force an even expression through the rising panic.
She bites her lip. “I… I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I ask, pulse racing.
“Everything.”
“Everything? Like political discord and ocean pollution?”
She returns a weak smile. “No. For… misjudging you.”
“About?”
Please don’t say it. Please, please.
“I know, okay?”
Her gaze lifts to mine, and I go numb.
“You know?”
It’s all I can get out.
Isabel reaches for me, and I duck away, still in shock. Almost five years holding onto a secret. Five fucking years! And just like that…
I don’t even know what to say. I’ve never been in this position before, wasn’t remotely prepared for it.
“How much… Um… What did she tell you?” I can’t look at her and focus on the floor again.
“No specifics. Just, I can tell there’s more to this situation that you two aren’t telling me.”
Oh, thank god.
I clench my eyes shut, breathing in a lungful of relief, even as old and new pain mix in a sudden rush.
“Tristan?”
I flinch at the hand on my arm and open my eyes to find Isabel’s beautiful, concerned face inches from mine.
“What is it? What’s really going on?” she asks.
“I…” My voice is gruff with emotion, and I clear my throat. “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ican’t.
She drops her arm when I push to my feet.
“Okay, but—”
“You’re reading into it too much,” I lie, giving her a hard look. “I need to get going. I’ve wasted enough time.”
Her gaze narrows like I hoped. Good.
“Okay, well, sorry forwasting your time, I guess.”
I force a casual shrug and start toward the door. Better she waste my time than her life.
I don’t know why Isabel decided to come with me if she was still pissed. By ten o’clock, I’m starting to wish I’d insisted she stay home to hate me in private. I didn’t even know there were so many ways to be passive aggressive.
