“Like what?”
“Well, when I first got there, I was wrapped up in the shock of seeing you and Clancy leaving a doctor’s clinic in Brentdale.”
My stomach drops. “Were you…following me?”
“Iknewthat would be your first reaction. No. I wasn’t following you. I went to a sleep specialist after a certain someone told me I snore the house down.”
“Oh. Right.”
Bile starts making its way up my throat, and I get that sinking feeling I always get whenever something really bad is about to go down. I have to cut in and tell him now before it’s too late.
“Can I please say something before you go on?”
“No. I’m not done yet.” The biting anger in his voice sends a cold current down my spine. “So while I’m at Bunny’s, grappling with why you made up some bullshit excuse about going to the dentist, who should I run into but our favorite person in the world?”
Oh. No.
“Ridge?” I guess, desperately wishing with all my heart I’m not right.
“Got it in one. And guess what he told me.”
No, no, no, no, no. That motherfucker is still running his mouth about me? Oh, he isdead.
“Let me explain.”
“Yes, please do. Because I would love to know how Ridge knows about your condition when I don’t.”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“Today. Right now. After my appointment.”
He scoffs. “Bullshit.”
“I swear.”
“Well, forgive me if I don’t believe you. You haven’t exactly been forthcoming with information, have you?”
I drop my head. “No. I haven’t.”
“You’ve had multiple opportunities to tell me, Jackson. Chance upon chance upon chance. Like when we made a deal to be honest with each other. Like the evening Wagner pulled up when we were out in the pen. Or you know what? You could have come to me of your own free will at any of the millions of times we run into each other every single day…and yet, you haven’t. You didn’t. And now, finally, when I confront you about it, you expect me to believethisis the moment you were going to tell me?”
“I know it sounds bad.” I scrunch up my face. “Itisbad. But can I just talk?”
“To be honest, I don’t even know if I care anymore.”
I suck in a breath. Fighting with someone you can barely see is bad enough, but hearing him sound hurt is a thousand times worse than him yelling at me. “Please. Let me explain.”
“What can you say now, though, that will change the fact that you’ve been withholding information from me all this time?”
“Nothing,” I say, a tear rolling down my cheek. “But I need you to know something. I should’ve told you this a while back.” I point toward the couch. “Can we sit down? Please?”
He lets out a low grunt that vaguely sounds like agreement, and I see him moving toward the middle of the room.
I take one couch, and he drops down into the other.
“What is it, then?” he asks, the hurt giving way to anger again. “What is this monumental secret you’ve been keeping from me this whole time?”
