Mother takes a deep breath. “We thought it was for the best. I promise it wasn’t meant to deceive you. I was doing what I thought was right for you—what was right for our family.”
“How is lying to me what’s best for me?”
She looks over at my dad, who is slumped on the couch. “After Ethan was born, your father and I struggled in our marriage. He was working a lot. I was angry. Lonely. When he approached me and asked for a separation, I couldn’t bear the idea. I needed a break. Some friends took me on a trip to clear my head. I ended up having too much to drink and slept with someone.”
I go still—too still. It’s as if my body has forgotten how to move, how to breathe.
“By the time I found out, he was long gone, and your father and I had discussed the idea of trying again. We didn’t want you to feel left out, like Ethan had two parents and you didn’t fit in.” Her armor begins to crack as thick tears begin to stream down her face. “I promise I never made the decision lightly.”
“All these years, you made the decision to protect me?”
She must hear the doubt in my voice. I watch her wipe away her tears, and then she looks up at the ceiling as she tries to regain control. “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose years down the line, I held some unresolved resentment about the entire situation. I worried a lot about if the truth got out. Would you hate me? Hate us? Would you not look at him as your father anymore? Thenmaybe some more selfish concerns. I worried about what others would think about us.”
For a moment, I can’t even hear her. The room feels too small, like the air’s been sucked out of it. My pulse is pounding so loud that it drowns everything else out.
Protect me? That’s what she’s calling this?
My laugh cracks on the way out, sharp and humorless. “You didn’t protect me. You built my entire life around a lie and expected me to thank you for it.” My voice trembles, but I don’t stop. “You didn’t want me to feel left out? What about now? Because that’s exactly what I am—on the outside of a family that was never really mine.”
Dad’s head jerks up, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate. “Jessie, don’t say that. You are mine. You’ll always be mine.”
“Am I?” I whisper, my throat raw. “Or did you just pretend so it would be easier?”
He stands, and I can see the pain written all over his face. “No. I raised you. I loved you. That’s never been pretend.”
But it’s too late. The words can’t reach me.
I stand up and put my hands up in defense. “Then you should’ve trusted me to love you anyway.”
With that, I run to the front door like I’m suffocating and the only thing that will save me is the air outside. The moment I take my first inhale of the hot, muggy summer air, my hands grip my knees, and I cry out loud as the pain sears through me.
Before they can chase me, I sprint to my car and get inside, then hit the gas. The entire drive home, I’m in a daze as I try tonavigate my feelings. Seeing them cry, their pain—it made me so angry. They are not the victims in this; I am.
The moment I get back to my place, I know I’m too wired to go to sleep. I park my car and decide to walk along the streets alone. It’s not the smartest thing in the world, but I also know the streets of the city like the back of my hand. I stay on the busy ones. It’s Saturday night, so I don’t have to worry about them being busy at eleven, they always are.
I try to focus on just my steps instead of the turmoil inside of me. Everyone walking down the street next to me acts as if life is full of the most amazing possibilities. I used to feel like that.
Now I know the truth—life is full of lies.
Then I look up and realize I’m standing in front of his building. I don’t even think twice before I open the door and run to the elevator. I know the code to bring it up to the penthouse.
I know it’s late. I’m sure he’s sleeping. But I need him. I need him more than I’ve ever needed anyone.
Chapter Thirty
Walker
So much for thinking the workout would relieve enough tension to give me a good night’s sleep. I lie awake on the couch as I click through the channels, looking for something—anything—that might distract me from the hollowness I feel inside.
Then it happens. I hear a faint knock at my door. At first, I think I’m hearing things, and then it comes again. It’s soft, but I know I’m not hearing things.
I peek through the peephole, and my heart nearly sinks to my stomach. I fumble with the locks and pull the door open. She’s standing in front of me, hugging herself, her eyes telling me how lost and alone she feels.
“Jessie.” My greeting is a husky whisper.
She bites her bottom lip as tears spill over, her whole body trembling. I don’t think; I just move. My arms wrap around her, pulling her in until there’s no space left between us. She collapses against me, her fingers clutching my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. When her head drops to my chest, a raw,broken sob tears free—the kind that sounds like it’s been buried for years.
I rub soothing circles on her back. “It’s okay. I’m right here,” I whisper, though we both know that’s not true.
