“So you two broke up?” Will asks. He’s staring at me like I’m a stranger, which I probably am to him, now that I’ve shown him the real me. “And you didn’t end up with the other bloke?”
I draw both lips inward, biting down hard before I slowly shake my head no.
“No to . . .?”
I am truly an awful, awful person. It’ll be a miracle if either Dane can even hear my words, my voice drops so low. “We didn’t break up.”
Silence. These two are excellent at waiting a girl out.
“I . . .” Am a coward. Selfish. “I left. Just left. No note, not . . . nothing.”
Will’s eyes widen. “You just fucking left? No goodbye? No, ‘We’re done?’ No nothing?”
I wouldn’t blame them if they’re judging me now, Cameron included.
“That’s fucked up, Zo—Chloe.” Will’s frustration is tangible. “How long were you two together?”
Officially? Nearly two years. Unofficially? “I’ve known and loved him my entire life.”
Cameron lets out a melancholy sigh. Because he is another person who found true love at a young age, and he’d give anything to have his wife back. Here I am, admitting I’m a total whore who cheated on her lifelong love and then left him without a word.
Will’s long, slow whistle fills the living room. “You cheated on this bloke that you claim you loved your entire life, and then just . . . left. Without the decency of a goodbye. Jesus, Chloe. I don’t even know what to say to that.”
I can’t even look at Cameron. There’s got to be more disappointment there than I know I can handle.
And yet, I’ve dug my grave, I might as well lie down in it. “It was with his brother,” I tell my best friend. Tell the man who has treated me better than my own biological father. “I cheated on my fiancé with his own twin brother. And they . . . they fought a lot. Because of me. I hated it, couldn’t stand being the reason they weren’t close, so . . . I thought the best thing to do was just leave.”
I think I’ve stunned them both into an even more horrified silence. I can’t look up. I can’t.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” I ramble on. I’m so nervous I feel like my limbs, my hair, my eyelashes—everything is just going to drop off with the next breath. “But I made the best choice I could at the time. Work was unbearable. They were fighting. I . . . I got sick. I didn’t know how to handle the mess I’d made. I lost a lot of weight from the stress. Got a bleeding ulcer that kept coming back. Had constant headaches. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. They fought, and stopped talking to each other, and I hated hurting them, hated knowing I was the reason they were unhappy, and all I could think was—was—if I weren’t there, they wouldn’t have a reason to fight. And work was—I couldn’t deal with what I was being asked to do, so I left, and I did it in a way that they can’t find me, or work, or anyone from my old life, and I’ve tried to build myself a life that has more to do with what I want to do than what other people tell me I have to do. And . . . yes. I miss him. Them. I miss a lot of things, and it eats me up inside, and I break sometimes, and I want to give up or give in, and that’s why I called Jonah. But right now, I’m not sorry I left. I’m sorry that I hurt them, and I’m sorry if I hurt anybody else, but I’m not going to apologize for doing what I thought was best. Because I will do anything in my power to make sure that their lives are better. I’m not—”
Will grabs my face between his large hands. “It’s okay. Jesus. I’m sorry. It’s okay. It’s okay.” He wipes away tears I didn’t know I was still crying with his thumbs.
Cameron leans down next to me, too, and we do a three-way hug, and while it feels good—their love and acceptance are more than I deserve—I can’t help but think Will’s wrong. Because, it’s not okay. And I’m a fool for ever thinking it could be.
After spilling my guts to the Dane boys and crying until I blacked out, the Tracker appears at the diner during my shifts for three days straight. He orders pancakes, inhaling them like he’s starving, swearing I’m a goddess for serving him the best things he’s ever eaten. I don’t doubt his honesty; once, while he raved about them, he lost his stutter.
Being constantly on edge, waiting for the anvil to drop, or at least the Guard appearing and literally dragging me back to Annar at any moment, though, is too much for my rapidly unraveling nerves. I’m not lying when I finally break down and tell Paul I’m sick and need to go home. Once I’m there, standing in my small bedroom in a small house that has felt more like a home than the one I shared with my parents most of my life ever had, I debate whether or not to cut my losses and leave like I did before, with nothing but a handful of doctored paperwork and cash.
It’d be simpler, that’s for sure. Cameron and Will don’t deserve this. My baggage is too much for me to carry, let alone burden others with.
At the door, I’m just about to leave my keys behind when I spot an envelope bearing my assumed name. Hands trembling, I rip it open.