“I never pretended.”
“Oh, just like you never lied, either?”
“I admitted I lied. But only about who I am.”
I drop my backpack at my feet so I can cross my arms. Protect my heart. “Yeah, one big lie made up of a thousand little ones. So you’re a senior, right? From Philadelphia?” My words are coming out on thin ribbons of air. “Do you even know where the fuck Philadelphia is?”
“Betts—” His eyes are wild.
“And what about all that faerie bullshit? ‘Anne’s a faerie, just like you, Betts. What a pretty faerie you are, Betts.’” I forget to breathe as I mock him in sing-song. “‘Let me tell you all about the faeries, Betts. The pixies and the brownies and the ones that sleep in snakeskins.’”
He’s looking away, raking his fingers through his hair and working that lowerlip like it’s a steak.
“All your stupid little hints,” I scoff. “What were you trying to do? Cover your ass in case I accidentally figured it out?”
“I don’t know,” he groans. “I don’t know why I said those things. I just wanted to…I was hoping…” He clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head.
Oh, I know what he was hoping: to bend me to his will. “You were manipulating me. This whole time.” I throw my hands up. “This whole…thing.”
“Betts, please. I wasn’t pretending, and I wasn’t trying to manipulate you.”
Cold air stings my wet cheeks.
Fuck, I must be crying.
When he steps closer, I back up, nearly tripping on the stairs. “Don’t.” If he gets near enough for me to look into those eyes. If he touches me?—
He halts. Tips his head. “I promise—I swear—that my feelings are real.”
He somehow gets a hand around my shoulder. The second I notice it, I shrug him off, but it’s too late. I’m already reacting to his touch. Already weakening.
“No,” I choke out. “No. I know what your promises mean.” He promised to protect me, promised he wouldn’t let anything hurt me.
And then he broke me.
The tears are so hot in my throat, it hurts to talk. I swipe my bag off the step and make for the door, spinning back around as I open it. “Go home, Leo.”
He groans my name again, but I’m already halfway inside. Abruptly, he shouts, “Don’t go back to him.”
Oh, no. No, he didnot.
My misery twists into fury.
With exquisite composure, I deposit my bag inside and stomp back down the steps, all the way down until Leo and I are nearly eye to eye. “Don’t go back to whom?” I grit out, even though I know. I just want to hear him say it.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t flinch. “Zander.”
“Why not? Because he could hurt me?”
“He did hurt you.”
“So did you!”
“He’s poison.”
“You only say that because he was right about you.”
Leo’s beautiful features contort. My blow landed just right.
