Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden Chapter 20 HER GASP was quick but audible. Followed by one word. “No.” He’d looked away from her again, letting his eyes get lost in blue flames a few feet away. But now he peered back at her. Met her gaze head on. Even if it was harder this time. “Yeah,” he corrected her. Only then he began to tremble, just slightly. “I didn’t mean to.” “Of course not.” Horror filled her eyes now and he was sorry as hell he’d told her. How the fuck had that even happened? Since when did he go spilling his guts to anyone, and spilling his worst, deepest, ugliest secret at that? He felt like . . . a monster. Someone who hurts people. Was that how she’d see him now? “I’m not—it was just—” Shit. He stopped talking, tried to catch his breath. Beneath the cover, she was touching his chest now, then running one hand up over his shoulder, neck, trying to soothe him. “It’s okay, Jeremy—it’s okay.” But no amount of comfort could make this better.
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