No, no need for any more specifics, and Rory had no more desire to say that particular name than Pippa had. No desire to talk about him at all, but her eyes told him that the time for hiding was over. The fear he saw there felt like a fist to his gut. He'd caught glimpses of it before she left, but to see it full on and know without possibility of evasion that it was fear of him ...

Rory's own hands started to shake before he removed them from Pippa's grasp with a whispered apology. He hoped she understood that he did so because he couldn't risk hurting her with an unconscious tightening of his grip while he waded through the quagmire that would be his confession. She still loves me. She said she does. But God, God, how can she possibly love me after this?!

He drew his legs up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them and took a tight grip on his forearms, ensuring that his hands could hurt no one but himself. Staring into the dimmest corner of the room, he took a deep breath and then another before he could force any words out.

"He ... came to the club that night. Before we found you." Definitely no need to say who he was. "He came to Last Call while I was on stage." His already-rough voice caught, forcing him to swallow again.