Olivia’s mouth parts in disbelief before twisting into a scowl. “As if I needed any more reasons to hate her,” she mutters.
I brush a wet strand of hair from her cheek. “I went along with it because it didn’t matter,” I admit quietly. “Anne was beautiful, familiar, uncomplicated. She didn’t want me—not really—and I didn’t care. It was easy to let her use me because I was using her right back.”
Olivia’s gaze flicks to mine, searching.
“I’d already learned where I stood,” I say. “Alex was the one people chose. I was the spare.”
Her jaw tightens at that, fury igniting behind her eyes.
“After Alex died,” I continue, adjusting in the water so my knee brushes hers. “Anne fell apart. She didn’t know what to do with her grief, so she reached for whatever reminded her of him.” I gestured to my face. “Sometimes that was me.”
Olivia shifts a little closer, her knee nudging mine back.
“I wasn’t drawn to her,” I add, firmer now, leaving no room for doubt. “There was never a part of me that wanted her. No pull, no desire—nothing like what people assume. It wasn’t about wanting her at all. It was two grieving kids holding onto whatever felt familiar because everything else had been blown apart.”
She reaches for my hand.
“I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to push her away.” I entwine our fingers together. “I was numb. Lost. And she fit into the shape of what my life had been before everything went wrong.”
In hindsight, it was a mistake. Anne’s attachment to Alex was its own grief, but letting myself become the outlet for it was like death by a thousand cuts. Every time we hooked up, it reinforced my worst insecurity—that I was the stand-in, the consolation prize, the twin people settled for when they couldn’t have him.
I exhale. “It tapered off in college. She went to Cambridge, I went to Halford. An ocean between us helped me gain some perspective.” A rueful tilt of my mouth.
I scrub a hand through my hair, the memory sour. “I didn’t try hard enough to stop it completely, though,” I admit. “When we were both home for the holidays, it was easy to fall back into familiar patterns. And every time, I hated myself a little more for letting it happen.”
I glance at Olivia, afraid of what I’ll see. To my relief, her expression is void of judgment.
“When she moved back to New York after graduation, she made it very clear that she wanted more. And on paper, it madeperfect sense. But I didn’t want that. Not with her.” I shake my head, water sliding down my temples. “Letting it continue would have been dishonest and unfair to both of us. So I finally ended it. For good.”
I meet Olivia’s eyes. “That was well over a year ago.”
Silence stretches. Warm water laps at the edge of the tub. I can hear my own heartbeat—too loud, too hopeful.
I don’t know what I expect her to say. I’m bracing for hesitation. Doubt. Disappointment.
“I should’ve told you sooner,” I manage, my throat tightening. “I wasn’t hiding anything. I just?—”
“Nathaniel.” Her voice is soft, but it stops me cold.
She moves closer in the water, and then she’s easing herself onto my lap. Her knees bracket my hips, her thighs warm against mine. She cups my face in both hands, fingertips slipping into my hair, tilting my forehead down until it rests against hers.
“I understand,” she murmurs.
It’s just two words but the impact is staggering.
“I know it’s not easy to talk about,” she continues. “I can see how it comes from a tender place. A bruise that’s faded but still hurts when pressed.” Her thumb strokes my cheekbone, gentle as breath. “Thank you for telling me. I just… I wish I could take away some of that pain for you.”
My hands rise without thinking, covering hers, holding them there. “Baby…” My voice breaks. “You already have. You’ve taken more pain from me than you know.”
She shakes her head.
“No—listen.” I swallow. “It hurts less every day I’m with you. You can’t imagine how much you’ve healed me.”
The words spill out before I can stop them—fear, need, gratitude tangled together. I can feel the slide toward saying too much, the way I do when it’sher, and the stakes feel too high.
“Shh.” She smooths a wet lock of hair from my forehead. “I’m right here, my love. I’m with you.”
I go still.
