Page 81 of Holding Hope

But I wasn’t complaining. Clarke didn’t open up like this often. Honestly, I wasn’t sure she opened up like this with anyone. This seemed just as new to her as it was to me, so why? Why me of all people?

Why tell me the things she hid from the people she loved most?

I had hurt her in a way I would’ve considered unforgivable, and yet…

“I wanted to hurt you,” she said quietly. “Just enough so you could feel how it felt for me.” Her blue eyes stayed fixed on Artemis, fingers threading through the horse’s mane.

“You don’t think it hurt me?”

The words came out sharper than I intended, and Clarke flinched. Guilt hit me instantly. “I’m sorry⁠—”

“You had a choice, Avalon,” she cut in. “I didn’t. So yes, I thought you didn’t feel anything. You didn’t have any of the pain or regret⁠—”

“Regret?” I sat up straighter, feet dropping from the stool. “I thought you didn’t regret that night.”

I didn’t. It had been the most perfect night of my life. But it had to end the way it did—she wouldn’t understand, not with the family she had.

Clarke’s eyes glistened, turning glassy. Her fingers stilled in Artemis’ mane. “I hated myself for days after,” she whispered. “I felt disgusting⁠—”

“But why? Clarke, why?” I didn’t understand. Not after everything she’d said tonight.

“Because I gave in!” she burst out. “I don’t just sleep with random people. I wasn’t raised that way. And the one time—the only time—I did, I woke up alone. Tossed aside.”

Tossed aside. God. I hadn’t meant for it to feel like that. I hadn’t meant for any of it.

“You disappeared in the dead of night,” she continued, voice trembling. “No note. No number. Nothing. How else was I supposed to feel? You threw me out with the morning trash. Like I was just another warm body to bury your troubles in.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Why did you leave me like that, Avalon?”

The same question she’d asked months ago. The same question I’d avoided answering. But this time, I owed her the truth.

“I was scared,” I said — louder than I meant to. I stood, running a hand through my hair. Then softer, “I was scared because it felt too real. Too tangible.”

I met her eyes. “I don’t have your parents, Clarke. I can’t go to mine and expect to be heard.” A shaky laugh escaped me. “My parents want me to model. My grandparents want me to marry into aristocracy. If they got their hands on you, they’d rip you apart.”

“You don’t know that,” she whispered, wiping her nose. “And it’s not like I was saying we should get married. I just wanted you to stay.”

She didn’t get it.

God, I was terrible at explaining myself. Pacing, I bit my thumbnail.

“That night changed me. You changed me. And I knew if I got too close, I wouldn’t want to let you go. And if I didn’t let you go, you’d be dragged into my world— into them.” I stopped in front of her.

Her eyes were huge beneath the brim of her hat, still shining with tears.

“I didn’t want that for you,” I whispered. “I couldn’t live with myself if I let you be subjected to their scrutiny.”

She’d told me she hated the spotlight. Hated the cameras. Hated the pressure. I had been born into it. She hadn’t.

“It would’ve been cruel to make you live a life you’d hate,” I said, voice small.

“More cruel than leaving me?” she asked softly, turning back to Artemis. “You left me feeling dirty and used. That was cruel, Avalon.”

I know. I know. I know.

“And I beat myself up for weeks,” I whispered. “I felt terrible. If it’s any consolation⁠—”

“It’s really not.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know what else to say. You wanted the truth. That’s why I left. I was scared of what we might become. Leaving felt like the only way to stop it.”