Chapter Twenty-Five
The words stick in my throat, caught in the tight squeeze behind my tongue. Is this what deathbed confessions feel like, when the secret has become to heavy to bear alone? Possibly, but I doubt I’ll find relief at the end of my confession. Certainly not absolution.
“It must bring you comfort to wear your grief like a badge,” I say cruelly. She flinches, and the knife in my stomach gives a sharp twist. “To cloak yourself in words like honor. Fidelity.”
She gives me a sharp look.
“You accuse me of not being able to handle the truth when you refuse to see the ugly truth about Jason staring you in the face.”
Her cheeks darken. “You’re just jealous,” she accuses.
She’s not wrong. Jason’s part of her inner circle, though I’m the one she turns to for baser desires. And t
