I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Will’s always been the real snake in my story, lying in wait from his pretty little pedestal. Tempting me with his sins without a care in the world what just one bite would do to me.

“That so?” Will says in an unreadable voice.

I nod, still refusing to look at him. “Just ask Jeremy. Izzy’s twin brother.”

There. Throw him under the bus instead. Fucking coward.

“I don’t think I ever met him,” he says softly. “He was homeschooled, right?”

I drag my thumbnail around the rim of my mug. “Yeah. Up until middle school, and then again in high school.” I wait a beat. “He couldn’t exactly hide it, you know? He was always too...soft. Too—”

“Gay?”

At his harsh tone, I look up through my lashes. “No, nice. He was too fucking nice and sweet and quiet and pretty, and what did it get him? Bullied. For years.” I scrunch up my face and straighten on my stool. “Sure, his parents took him out of school when it got bad enough, but the damage was already done.”

Will’s mouth purses, but he doesn’t say anything.

“They called him names before he even knew what they meant. He never even had a chance to discover who he was before he felt the need to hide,” I bite out. I scoff and look away. “Except he couldn’t hide. He didn’t have that luxury.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, willing myself to shut up. But it’s like a dam has burst, and suddenly all this bitterness is spilling out. All these thoughts I never allowed myself to have, let alone voice out loud.

Defending Jeremy shouldn’t feel like self-incrimination. It shouldn’t. But I’ve always been a coward. A weak piece of shit who cared more about protecting himself than his friend.

“I thought maybe...”

“What? That it’s better now?”

He whispers, “I hoped.”

I swallow hard. Well, shit.

“Is this town really still that bad?” He smiles gently. “Or are you just trying to scare me away?”

I study him, and for a second, I consider lying.

Except...it wouldn’t be a total lie, would it?

Shiloh is an old, old town. The kind that still hangs on to the stain of the generations who came before. Their legacies taint the edges of this town not unlike the mountains that try to cradle us in. Protect us from the outside influences, and keep tradition strong.

It’s a double-edged sword if there ever was one—the sanctity of small-town life, forever at war with beliefs that have long lost their luster.

But telling him this...reinforcing his doubts...