Page 46 of Homecoming

“Ian, how the hell did they find out?” She went right for it. Right for the innocent act.

How could I be so blind?

I knew how.

It was Lola Adams, the girl that followed me everywhere when we were kids. The girl that listened to me whenever I needed her. The girl that let me hold her hand and get lost in the illusion that I belonged. That I had a home.

With her hair, eyes, and incredible body, it was no wonder that she’d so effortlessly brought me to my knees. On the way over, I’d tried to think about it rationally. I refused to believe that she would betray me.

But, there was no other explanation.

She was the only one I’d told recently. All the other people who knew from when it happened would have come forward when my career started taking off, not waited years to say anything.

I leaned a shoulder against the wall, and crossed my arms over my chest. “How much?”

“How much what?” She frowned at me.

“How much did you get for ratting me out?”

She stopped pacing and lost the frown. A fleeting look of disbelief crossed her face, but soon it got red.

The anger was surfacing.

“You think I did this?” She pointed at the muted TV that was showing picture after picture of me with the words scrolling at the bottom.

“You’re the only one who found out recently.” I shrugged as if it didn’t affect me at all. “And behold, not even a week later, it’s all over the news. So yeah, I know it’s you.”

“You can’t be serious.”

For a second I had doubts, but they were quickly replaced by rage.

How dared she destroy everything I’d worked for?

How dare she take what I’d built and turn it into ash?

How dare she make me fall in love with her then toss my heart out like it meant nothing to her?

“I am,” I said flatly.

“Ian, I love you. I would never do this to you,” she went on with a lie.

“You don’t love me. You’ve proven that by selling me out. So, I’ll ask again, how much? Was it worth it? Destroying me the way you did?”

I let her see the pain she inflicted with a single conversation. Seeing it in my eyes, she flinched.

“Ian, please…” she tried to plead with me, but I was done.

I thought I was strong enough to talk to her and get the answers I thought I had to have but I wasn't. I just needed her to go out of my life.

“Get out,” my voice was guttural and hoarse. It was painful to say the words. But, we couldn’t recover from what she had done.

“Ian, listen—” she took a step toward me.

I let my hands fall, leaned her way, and roared, “Get the hell out!”

She stood still, holding herself around her middle. I couldn’t bear to look at her a moment longer. But I knew the sight of her brown eyes shimmering with tears would sear itself into my retinas.

“Ian,” she whimpered.