“I want this,” I tell him out loud in as strong a voice as I can muster. “I promise I want this.”

He sucks in his cheek, studying my face. “Then talk to me.”

I wince and look down. “Can we just pretend I didn’t—”

“Nice try, but no.”

My ribcage drops with my exhale. I nod once. Twice. A third time. “It’s my fault.”

He’s scowling when I look up at him.

“I was waiting for the disgust to set in.” I warily search his eyes, waiting for him to recoil at my words. “Only it didn’t, so I...I don’t know, I guess I just...tried summoning it myself.”

His face darkens, and I have to force myself to push on. If there’s any hope, I don’t send him running, then I need to suck it up and explain.

“I was remembering what my dad did to me that summer. After...” My voice fades.

His eyes darken and his shoulders draw back as if steeling himself. His fingers tighten almost painfully around my legs, and it’s only then that I realize I’ve started to bounce my knee.

“What the fuck did he do?” he asks dangerously.

My throat is so tight, I have to force the words out. “He just, uh, tried to make sure I didn’t want that again.” I gulp and look down. “So he made me watch stuff.” I wave a hand. “You know. Porn.”

Fuck. It sounds so much worse hearing it out loud.

Shame boils hotly under my skin, no doubt visibly heating the skin of my face and neck.

His lip’s curled up in a what-the-fuck expression when I glance up through my lashes. “He did what?”

I lower my gaze back to his neck so I don’t have to see his reaction. There’s no way I’ll be able to get through this if I have to watch his emotions playing across his face.

I inhale deeply, collecting myself for a moment. Then remind myself to just focus on the facts. It’s what Dr. Wells tells me to do anytime I find myself feeling too overwhelmed when talking about my childhood. That it’s okay if I need to numb myself a bit to get it out there so she can help me process it all in a safe environment.

I hear Will’s earlier words in my head: “You’re safe with me.”

Not that I’ve even talked about this yet in therapy. Not with anyone. What my dad did that summer, the clusterfuck that is my sexuality...Will’s role in everything. Hell, I haven’t even mentioned him to Dr. Wells. Not even a casual name drop. Nothing.

I try not to think too hard about why that may be.

“Way?”

Right.