Page 43 of Rich Little Liars

‘I’m worried about you,’ he murmurs into my hair.

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘No, you won’t. Not like this.’ He pulls back a little, keeping his hands on my shoulders. ‘The police being here last night – that’s going to make things worse. You know that, right? The town will be talking. Caroline will have questions. It’ll escalate the gossip.’

I hadn’t thought about that, or considered how calling for help would make me look more suspicious rather than less. More unhinged rather than more reasonable.

‘What do I do?’ The question comes out small. Desperate.

‘You could start by trusting me. By telling me what’s really going on.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because if I tell you, you’ll leave. And I can’t lose you too.’

The admission slips out before I can stop it. Raw and honest and more revealing than anything I’ve said to him before.

Richard’s expression softens. ‘Kelly. Whatever you think I’ll do – whatever you’re afraid of – I’m not going anywhere.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘You don’t know what I’ve done.’

The words hang between us. Heavy. Damning. I watch his face, waiting for the realisation to dawn. For the kindness to curdle into suspicion. For him to step back and away and out of my life before the truth has a chance to stain him too.

But he doesn’t move.

‘Everyone’s done things they regret,’ he says quietly. ‘Everyone has secrets they’d rather keep buried. Whatever yours is, it won’t make me walk away from this.’

‘It might.’

‘Then tell me and let me decide.’

The invitation sits there. Open. Genuine. One last chance to let someone in before the walls close completely. But I can’t risk it. Can’t bear to watch his face change when he learns the truth about that night. About Daniel.

About what I did or didn’t do or should have done differently.

‘Not yet,’ I say instead. ‘Please. Just… not yet.’

He looks at me, then nods. ‘Okay. But soon. Because this…’ He gestures at the house, at me, at the whole mess of it. ‘This can’t continue.’

‘I know.’

‘Promise me you’ll try to rest today.’

‘I’ll try.’

‘That’s not good enough.’

‘It’s the best I can do.’

He sighs, then leans forward and kisses my forehead. It’s the sort of kiss you give someone you’re trying to save.

‘I have to go to work,’ he says. ‘But I’ll check in later. And Kelly? If anything else happens – anything at all – you call me first. Before the police. Understood?’