“Which is why you believed me when I said I wasn’t manipulating you. Mhm.” Summer tilted her head, raising one eyebrow skeptically. “There’s trust, and then there’s trust.” She sighed. “It’s enough.” Stepping away, she wandered over to look at the pictures, the evidence of a life still scattered about the house. “Is it okay to ask why you left here?”
“I didn’t believe you, I just granted momentary credibility to your words,” Isaac corrected her. “But even if you were manipulating me, there wouldn’t be a single thing I could do about it, right?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow. “I’m just trying to be a nice guy, but I’m usually not, so don’t push it,” he warned her with an eloquent look. When she asked why he’d left the house, he pursed his lips, thinking of how to phrase it. “Too many bad memories, I guess. Me and my dad didn’t get along.”
She frowned, picking up one of the photos and trying to parse the undertones of his comment. “But you decided to go to school here in town anyway?” She dismissed his commentary about not being a nice guy; whatever he thought about himself, a genuinely not-nice person would not have let her in the house at all. She’d met a few of those, in her time; people who were so selfish and self-centred that no one else was quite real to them.
She glanced back over to him, putting the picture down. “I’m sorry. Just because you’re protecting me doesn’t mean I have the right to be nosy.”