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The air between them was thick, taut like a pulled thread that could snap at any moment. Harper stood by the kitchen counter, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her brow furrowed in a way Spencer couldn't ignore. He hovered near the door, as though he was debating whether to stay or make a break for it.
"You're lying to me, Spencer," she said, her voice calm but edged with hurt. "I don't know why, and I don't know what about, but I can tell."
His jaw tightened, the muscle twitching faintly. "I'm not lying."
"Then what is it? Because something doesn't make sense. Two weeks ago, you said you went to visit your mom, and now you're saying the same thing?" She shifted closer, her tone softening despite the frustration in her chest. "You're not even trying to give me a believable excuse anymore."
Spencer pressed his lips into a thin line, his hands stuffed in his pockets like they might betray him if he moved them. "She's been having... episodes," he said finally, avoiding her gaze. "It's complicated."
"That's not an answer." Harper leaned against the counter, trying to catch his eye. "I'm not asking for much, Spencer. Just the truth. I know things with your mom are hard, and I want to be there for you. But how can I do that when I feel like I'm being kept in the dark?"
He looked up then, his hazel eyes clouded with something she couldn't quite place—guilt, maybe, or fear. "I don't want you to worry about it."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "So you'd rather push me away instead?"
His silence was louder than any denial could have been.
Harper shook her head, exhaling sharply. "You don't trust me. You think I can't handle whatever this is."
