The whole truth was messier, more complicated, full of people who'd hurt each other without meaning to, who'd loved each other in ways that left bruises instead of healing.
I couldn't keep hiding forever. Sooner or later, I'd have to face them, explain myself, accept responsibility for the pain I'd caused, even if my reasons had been valid.
But not yet. I wasn't ready yet.
I curled closer to Vance and waited for morning.
"What do you want to do?" he asked over breakfast.
I'd been thinking about it all night. The guilt. The fear. The impossible tangle of love and resentment that made up my relationship with my family.
"I want to talk to them," I said slowly. "Eventually. Not to fight. Just to explain. To let them know I'm okay. That I didn't run because I hated them."
"Why did you run?"
"Because I was suffocating. Because I couldn't be what they needed me to be. Because every day I spent pretending was killing something inside me." I met his eyes. "But that doesn't mean they're the enemy. They're just people. People who love me in the wrong ways."
"That's a generous interpretation."
"It's the true one." I wrapped my hands around my coffee mug. "My mother wasn't trying to control me; she was trying to give me the life she thought I wanted. My father wasn't trying to trap me; he was trying to secure my future. They were wrong about what I needed, but they weren't malicious."
"And Elizabeth?"
"Elizabeth is collateral damage." The guilt stabbed fresh and sharp. "She deserved a husband who loved her. I gave her a lie. That's on me, not them."
Vance was quiet for a moment. "So what's the plan?"
"I don't know yet." I took a breath. "I need time to figure out who I am, to become someone who can stand in front of them and tell the truth without crumbling. Then I'll reach out, explain, apologize, and let them decide what happens next."
"And if they don't forgive you?"
"Then at least they'll know I'm alive, that I'm sorry, and that I never meant to hurt them."
He reached across the table and covered my hand with his.
"You're braver than you think," he said.
"I'm terrified."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive."
I smiled despite the fear. "I want you to be part of it. Whatever comes next."
"Even the hard conversations?"
"Especially those."
He squeezed my hand. "Then I'm not going anywhere."
Chapter 14
Vance
Tobias got a job.
It wasn't much. Part-time at a used bookstore in town, the kind of dusty, cramped place where books were stacked floor to ceiling and the owner had stopped caring about organization sometime in the previous century. The pay was barely above minimum wage, the hours inconsistent, and the heating worked when it felt like it.
He loved it.
