“I’m glad you decided to tell me.” Zeke would hate for Brenton to be going through this by himself, for him to be afraid and alone. He might not have even gone to the police right away.
“I told the right person, too. You knowing a cop helps. And you’ve been really calm about it, even though they used your poem.” Brenton hasn’t outright asked about Zeke’s poetry again, since Zeke first told him about it, but Zeke can tell from a few things he’s said that he’s curious.
“Maybe they were trying to scare me off? Like they saw me running with you, or at your apartment, and didn’t like it?” Zeke suggests.
“I don’t know. They dug into your life. They found something you keep secret.” Brenton frowns, stopping his treadmill and getting off, so Zeke does the same.
“Ready to go change?” Brenton grabs his things.