The Monuments Men Murders

Sam said flatly, “I would not do anything that could potentially compromise you either physically or professionally.”

That was the simple, unvarnished truth. Jason had to acknowledge it.

“Fair enough.” He met Sam’s gaze steadily. “Again, I did not mean to compromise you. I’m sorry. I’ve apologized, and if I could undo it, I would. I don’t know what more I can say or do.” It was not easy to ask, but he had to know. “Are we— Are you— Is it over between us? Is that what you want?”

“Of course it’s not what I want. I love you. But.” It was Sam’s turn to take a deep breath. For a moment, his face looked harrowed. Clearly, this was not easy for him either. Clearly, he was in pain. Knowing that only made it worse. “I feel that I don’t know you. The person I thought you were would not have done this.”

Probably would have hurt less if Sam had simply kicked him in the face. As it was, it was all Jason could do to manage an even, “I see.”

To which Sam said nothing.

Nothing.

Not because he was being deliberately cruel, but because that was how he felt. He had told Jason the truth and, it seemed, did not have anything else to add.

And as hard as Jason was trying to be fair and look at it from Sam’s point of view, he was simply in too much pain to take it without fighting back.

“Well, if you decide we’re no longer whatever the hell it is we’re supposed to be, can you at least tell me to my face this time? I don’t want a phone call or a text or an email.”

Sam didn’t like that. His eyes narrowed. His mouth thinned.

“Anything I have to say to you, West, I’ll tell you in person.”

“Can’t wait,” Jason returned. “In the meantime?”