“When I was younger,” I began, voice soft, “I used to think love meant knowing everything about someone. Their favorite color, the way they liked their coffee, all their stories.”
Lennox’s arms tightened around me, a small sound humming in his chest.
“I thought if I could understand someone deeply enough, I could keep them. That if I asked the right questions, paid enough attention… they’d never leave.” I smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “But people leave anyway. Sometimes without saying why. Sometimes with a story that was never real.”
His breath caught, so faint I almost missed it.
“I had this friend once,” I continued, “back in college. We were close — not lovers, just… soul-close. Or so I thought. Then one day, I found out half of what he told me wasn’t true. Everything I thought I knew about him… all lies. When I asked why he felt he couldn’t be himself, he said he didn’t want me to see him differently.”
Milo had a part of my heart those days. Laughter, dancing, freedom, and fun. But he was hiding himself from me. He was selling drugs on campus. Cheating through his classes. It never made sense to me because his parents were wealthy, and he always had access to money and opportunities I wished I had.
It broke my heart to know he was a liar who spent so much time with me…and even though what we had was far from romantic, it was intimate as friendships often are. Tasha and Selena were proof of that.
I stared at the creek, light glinting on its surface.
“But I did. Not because of what he hid… but because he didn’t trust me with the truth.”
Lennox’s hands slid down my arms, fingers lacing with mine. He didn’t speak.
“I don’t need perfection,” I whispered. “I just need honesty. Even when it’s hard. Especially then.”
For a moment, it felt like the whole world held its breath — the trees, the water, even the stars. Waiting.
I turned slightly, meeting his gaze. His eyes were steady, shadowed, searching mine like there was something he wanted to say.
But then… he kissed me instead.
It was soft at first, reverent — the kind of kiss meant to soothe, to silence. And for a while, I let it. I let him pull me close, his mouth tracing a path down my throat, his hands anchoring me as though affection could replace truth.
But even as my body melted into his, my spirit knew. Love couldn’t fill the space where honesty belonged.
Later, as we lay tangled beneath the blanket of night, his breathing even and deep beside me, I traced the outline of his hand against my skin — strong, beautiful, still holding secrets.
And I wondered how long love could bloom in shadow before the light demanded entry.
16
LENNOX
The town surrounding The Three Bears was quaint, with cobblestone streets, family-owned shops, and a charm that felt worlds away from the urban rush of Pittsburgh. I’d promised Naima a real date, something outside of the retreat’s bubble, and this town—with its rustic beauty and quiet vibe—was perfect.
We parked near a bistro with ivy creeping up red brick walls and fairy lights twinkling under the eaves. The sign, hand-painted and a little worn, read Sullivan’s Nest. Inside, the space was intimate—tables draped in cream linens, candles flickering, and the soft strum of a guitarist in the corner. The air smelled of rosemary and fresh bread, warm and inviting.
Naima slipped her arm through mine as the hostess led us to a corner table by the window. Her warmth was a comfort, and as we sat, I found myself reaching for her hand. She didn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers laced with mine, and a soft smile played on her lips.
“This place is beautiful,” she murmured, her eyes bright as she looked around. “I’ve walked by a few times, but I neverthought to come in. It always seemed… special. Like the kind of place you share with someone important.”
“Then I’m glad you’re here with me.”
Her gaze softened, and I felt a weight settle in my chest. It was love. It had to be. The kind that swelled in the quiet moments, that sat heavy on your tongue because saying it aloud would make it too real.
But how could I love her when I was lying to her every single day?
The guilt was a hard edge, slicing through the tenderness of the moment. I had never shared so much of myself with anyone before—not even with past girlfriends. With Naima, I’d told her about my childhood, about my brothers Micah and Cairo and how Micah had always been the golden boy, and Cairo the funny charismatic one, while I was the one finding trouble. I’d told her about my mom, and how beautiful she was. How kind and forgiving. She knew about my father, but only the version of him that was a distant, successful man—not the controlling force sending me here to betray her.
And Naima had shared too. She’d told me about her family, about the fear of failing them when she took on the retreat. She told me about her late grandmother’s wisdom and how she’d whisper prayers over the amethyst crystal around her neck. She’d spoken of lost love, of heartbreak, and of the dreams she held close to her chest, too fragile to expose to the world.
It made what we had real—something I couldn’t dismiss as just an assignment. But that was exactly what it was supposed to be.
