I knew he was going to tell me a moment before he actually did.

I could see it coming, but I couldn't do anything to stop it.
But, that's what it's always like being around Shawn. It's like being one of those seismologists who have all their equipment and all their mathematical formulas and they can predict almost to the minute when an earthquake will strike, but they can't actually do anything to stop it from flattening everything in its path.

All they can do is hold on and hope for the best…

Of course, most of the time, it's kind of fun not knowing what he'll come up with.

Most of the time, it's fun to just hold on and hope for the best.

Sometimes, it's annoying.

Sometimes, it's irritating and frustrating and all you want to do it smack him.

But this time…it was something else all together.

This time, I actually did smack him.

"Ow!" He groaned, rubbing his arm. "What was that for?"

At first, I didn't answer.

I couldn't.

I didn't know why I smacked him. It's not like finding out he wasn't really psychic came as a huge shock.

I guess I should be clear on that point.

It wasn't a shock. I'm a detective. The possibility that he was lying about being a psychic had occurred to me. It was always right there, lingering in the back of my mind…like that nagging little voice that says you forgot to turn off your curling iron before you left the apartment that morning.

But, somehow over the years I had known Shawn, I had learned to ignore that voice. The one that told me he was a fraud. The one that told me not to trust him.

Somehow…that voice just didn't matter anymore.

Not when Shawn was always right.

Not when he always solved his case.

After a while, it didn't matter how he got his answers. All that mattered was that he got them.

Every time.

I may have even started believing he really was psychic…just a little.

I mean, how else could he always know the answer?

How else could he always get the right guy?

It had to be supernatural…

Right?

But now he was sitting in front of me, casually looking me in the eyes and telling me he had been lying for seven years.

Seven years!

How was I supposed to trust him now?

How could I believe anything he said when he had spent the last seven years lying to me?

I still didn't know what to say to him, so I smacked him again.

I'm not really sure why.

It was an impulse.

"Ow! Jules! Stop hitting me!"

"What do you want me to do?" I demanded, somehow finally managing to find my voice.

He shrugged, looking down at the table between us.

"I don't know. But it doesn't involve hitting!"

"You lied."

"You knew I was lying."

"That's not the point!" I snapped, already feeling my ears turning red. "It doesn't matter if I knew or not! It doesn't matter if I never believed you for a minute! All that matters is that you lied!"

Even as the words came flying out of my mouth, I realized why I had smacked him.

I wasn't mad because I had really believed him.

I was mad because I had wanted to believe him.

Somehow…Shawn had made me want to believe.

He made me want to believe that he was what he said he was.

He made me want to believe that everything was as simple as it looked.

He made me want to believe that I could trust him…that he wouldn't lie to me for seven years.

He made me want to believe in him…and now he was telling me I couldn't.

And there wasn't anything I could do about that.

So, I hit him.

I stood up from the table, turning away before he could see the tears starting to form in my eyes.

I wasn't sure if they were tears of anger or sorrow or some mixture of the two, but I knew he couldn't see them.

I never cry, and when I do, I never let anyone see it.

Especially not Shawn.

Especially not now.

"Jules!" He called after me, but I just kept walking away.

He was still sitting at the table. I could feel his penetrating hazel eyes following me as I left, but I didn't care.

Not this time.