“If you tell me that is has," he says, "if you tell me that knowing helped you, I will listen." He looks at me without wavering. "Did it?"
I shudder, trying to shake off the feeling of Chris's hands in my hair. Every argument I have for telling Lock turns to a thousand crepe myrtle petals in my hands. The wind takes them all. "No," I say.
"At all?"
"No." My voice barely breaks a whisper.
"Why not?" he asks.
I owe him the truth. "Because I have to live with it.”