Page 157 of Three Reckless Words

There’s a growing list, and my ex breaking in and destroying his property is probably at the top, soon followed by the hard reality that I’ve infiltrated his home and his life.

“Winnie?” he asks, his blue eyes flashing with concern. I realize my hysterical laughter must be bubbling close to the surface if he can see it.

My eyes water from the effort of keeping it in.

That breakdown is coming, faster than I thought.

“I’m fine,” I rush out. “Why did you bring me here?”

He hesitates. “Walk with me?”

How could anyone say no to that? Anyone who’s not afraid of being axe-murdered, anyway—which I’m not with him. The grim, intrusive thought is just more hysteria because that kind of cartoon evil almost feels preferable to him gently letting me go.

I get out and we follow a narrow trail into the forest. He reaches out and takes my hand, gingerly holding it the entire time.

We walk into a silence barely disturbed by birdsongs.

I’m afraid to break it.

While the sweet hand-holding suggests he’s not about to smash my heart like an ornament, it’s not like I haven’t caused him a lot of trouble.

Infinitely more than he bargained for.

We come to a fallen tree, mossy and ancient and kind of majestic. He leads me to it, holding on as I stumble over the uneven ground gnarled in rocks and roots, urging me to sit.

We’re in this little fairy-tale clearing with the blue sky above and birds flitting in and out of branches.

Breathtaking.

A little slice of heaven—or as close as you can get in Missouri, just thirty minutes or so away from a teeming city.

“I’m sorry for crying all over you back there,” I start before he has a chance to speak. “And I’mreallysorry for what Holden did… coming to Solitude and destroying the bees like that? God.”

“Will you stop apologizing for him?” His voice hardens.

Eek. I don’t know how to stop.

If my lovely parents ingrained anything, it’s the guilt trip—and apologies are how you get demanding people to forgive your mistakes. And I’ve made a truckload of errors since moving here.

“Sorry. It’s just, you don’t need this.” You don’t needmeis what I really mean.

But he shakes his head fiercely.

“You think I brought you here so I could listen to you apologize for shit that’s not your fault while you rake yourself over the coals?”

“But—”

“Winnie, no. We’re here so I can tell you something.” His grip on my hand tightens. “I need you to just sit and listen, okay?”

Sit and listen.

Okay.

I can do that.

“I couldn’t care less about this ‘trouble’ you’ve caused. That’s part of keeping you safe,” he rumbles. “I want to be honest with you, and I haven’t been. No, that’s not fair.” He searches for the right words. I hold my breath, unsure where this is going. “What I mean is, I haven’t been open enough with you. That’s my fault, and I want to be.”

Listen, listen.

---