He broke the bond with a facetious bow. “The art of the exit, Killer,” he said. “You have to know when to make one.”

He cast one last agonized look at Nick. And then he was gone.

I turned to Nick, still on the couch, huddled up as if trying to hide within himself. When I crossed to him and put a hand on his shoulder, he twitched and jerked away, as if by instinct.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he muttered.

“I knew you hadn’t dealt with this,” I said. “That we hadn’t, you and me together. But I was too chickenshit to push it.” I took a deep breath. “In case this wasn’t just about Freddie.”

“I only want to feel this way about Freddie. I only want to blame him.” Nick met my gaze with deepest sorrow. “But the thing is, I will never know how you looked at him or how you kissed him. And it eats at me,” he said. “Was it the same way you look at me or kiss me? Or, if not, is that worse? It’s agony, Bex, and it’s infected me. I cannot stop thinking about it.”

I’d wanted this conversation. I’d tried to have this conversation, and tonight, I’d even pushed for it. But it was brutal to hear him put to voice everything I’d been afraid of hearing, and to know that it was every bit as bad as I had feared. Probably worse.

“I’m scared I can’t ever be your safe place again, because I’m part of the problem,” I whispered.

“All that playacting this summer was my safe place.” Nick swallowed hard. “Margot hadn’t been anywhere near Steve’s brother. It made it easier to push the rest of it away. But then we came home and we were right back in the thick of it. Seeing him around you…” He stared at the floor.

“We need help,” I said. “I don’t think we can cope with this alone.”

“No. I’m not ready for that,” Nick said, leaping up and pacing toward the fireplace. “This just happened.”

“It happened eight months ago.”

“That’s not how it feels,” he said.

“I get that, I promise, but we have to go somewhere from here. Tonight has to mean something,” I pleaded. “We can’t keep on this way.”

“Yes, but I’m the one who has to suck it up and look past the most hurt in order to move forward.” Nick pressed the heels of his hands into his forehead. “I know I’ve been an ass to Freddie. Because I can control that, and I can come out on top. But everything else…” He spread his hands wide, then let them fall with a thwack to his sides.

“But at least we know where we stand,” I argued.