Tell me what happened that last summer, Nathan. Why did you hook up with that girl?”
“It’s simple, Belle. I hooked up with that girl because you hooked up with that guy.”
“Ugh,” she cried, tightening on my hand. “What guy? There was no guy.”
“Malcolm.”
Belle stilled. Drawn, tired eyes widened, lighting at the name. “Wh— What did you say?”
“Malcolm,” I repeated. “I kept everything from that time. When I got too far gone reading our old texts, I had the ones from him to remind me why it ended. I’d show them to you but I threw my phone in the sea.”
She didn’t react to that. Her skin was taking on a sickly, sallow pallor. My anger washed under concern.
“Belle? Are you all right?” I made to stand. “I’ll get the nurse—”
Belle clamped down on me. “How do you know that name?”
“You didn’t think I’d find out about him, did you? Well, he found me.”
“What does that mean?”
I frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Nathan.” She sat up, snagged my collar, and tugged me into bed with her. “This is really important. Tell me everything. Start from the beginning.”
Relive every excruciating detail of our breakup? No, thanks.
But the look on her face.
I didn’t understand why she needed this, but she did.
“About halfway through summer, I started getting texts from an unknown number. Stuff like ‘who is this?’ ‘How do you know Belle?’ ‘Why does your number keep coming up on her phone?’ I finally answered that we were together and the reply was ‘that’s impossible because I’m her boyfriend.’
“I didn’t believe it at first.” The story burned coming out. “I didn’t want to believe it. But he told me things about you, Belle. Personal things that you’d only tell someone you were close to. I was still telling him to fuck off at that point, but then he sent me the pictures.”
“Pictures?” she croaked.
“Of you with some slick, baby-faced, piece-of-shit. His arm around you. The two of you cheesing. Him kissing your cheek. And... pics of you naked.”
Belle clapped her hand over her mouth. She looked like she’d be sick. I had the same reaction.
“Malcolm said you’d been hiding your relationship because he’s older than you. He asked me if I ever wondered why we weren’t putting labels on it? Or thought about why we rarely went anywhere other than my bedroom and the patch of pebbles and sand in front of my beach house?
“He said you were using me,” I rasped. “All I had to do was say your name and watch you spout denials while your eyes gave you away. Then I would know it was true. But after all that, I didn’t have to. Your phone went off while you were in the shower and I recognized the number immediately. Malcolm told you he loved you and would see you soon. That night I got drunk and you walked in on me with Sara.”
Belle gaped at me—stricken with horror.
“There it is.” I sank onto the pillow. “You cheated and I responded with the same. It’s now that we’re talking about this that I see you were right. Seventeen-year-old Nathan did keep too much to himself. I should’ve told you I knew about you and Malcolm—”
“There is no me and Malcolm!”
The scream blew me back, nearly toppling me off the bed. “Belle?”
“Oh my god,” she cried. “Oh my god, oh my god. He knew! H-he knew I was in Bracknell all this time. He knew about you.”
Color and emotion were returning to her, but the deep, red flush and filling eyes weren’t what I wanted either.
“Whoa, baby.” I brushed the wetness from her cheeks. “Don’t cry. It’s all in the past now. If you’re ready to move on, so am I.”
“Oh, Nathan.” Her tears flowed hot and fast. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
“He took you from me.” Belle buried her face in my chest, sobbing. “I should have known he wouldn’t let me have you,” I made out.
I couldn’t have been more confused if she kissed me, slapped me, and called me Lord Thumpington Jackass again.
“Belle, who is Malcolm?”
“I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t do this now. I have to speak to my mom. Get me a phone, please, Nathan. It’s important.”
“Sure. Of course.”
I climbed off the bed to track down Hendrix. I glanced at Belle as the door swung shut, a nasty feeling surged in my gut that the person responsible for our horrible breakup and my last two years of misery... was me.