I gasped, quickly flipping the light switch. Nathan sat in the bay window, arms crossed over his chest, his hair askew.
“Oh my God, Nate. You scared me. How long have you been here? Why are you sitting in the dark?”
Nathan rose from his seat but remained on the other side of the room. I wanted to close the distance between us, wrap myself in his arms, and pretend what happened downstairs wasa nightmare, not reality. But I wouldn’t be able to stand it if he refused me, and with the anger radiating off him, I thought maybe he would.
“We got home early from my doctor’s appointment. My mom wanted to see your mom. I wanted to see you. They were kissing in front of the window… like they didn’t care if they were caught. Do you know how fucked-up that is?”
I pinched my arm to wake from this nightmare, but it was real.
My mom lied to me. Mr. Sharpe betrayed Nathan’s mom.
How could they do this?
“You get what this means for us, right?”
A tear slid down my cheek. “It has nothing to do with us.”
Nathan laughed hollowly. “Your mom and my dad are having a kid. They’re going to move in together, maybe get married. You think my mom will want to stay in Middlebury now?”
After Nathan’s parents separated, his mom moved in with her sister for the waiting period to divorce, a full twelve months in North Carolina. In the interim, they worked on a custody arrangement and his mom searched for a house. His parents wanted him to stay in Middlebury so his life wouldn’t be upended. He’d blamed both his parents for the separation, convinced they hadn’t tried hard enough. But this changed his mind about who was to blame.
“She’s never going to move back now,” Nathan continued. He violently ran a hand through his hair. “And I won’t leave her alone. Not now.”
My heart squeezed to the point of pain. “You would leave?”
You would leave me? The words sat behind my lips. I was afraid of the answer. Not that I would hold it against him if he had to leave for some time. I’d understand it. But I worried it wouldn’t stop there, and Nathan would end our relationship because of this development. My mother was the root of his parent’s divorce. Neither of us had a car, or even a learner’spermit. How could we stay in a relationship if we never saw each other? It wasn’t as if his mom would facilitate visits to her ex-husband and his new girlfriend’s house.
“What other option is there?” Nathan’s voice broke on the last word.
I moved quickly to him, wrapping my hands around his. “It doesn’t mean anything needs to change betweenus.”
Distantly, I heard a door slam, and Nathan dropped my hands. I tried not to let the sudden movement sting; he was dealing with a life-altering change.
“You never answered my question.” Nathan locked eyes with me. “Did you know?”
The question was a punch to my gut. “Why would you ask that?”
“Something your mother said.”
My heart kicked into overdrive. “What did she say?”
“She was surprised I didn’t already know, given how close we are. Why would she say that, Brenna?”
I hate her.There was no way she didn’t realize this secret would drive a wedge between Nathan and me. She’d never been his biggest fan, but I didn’t think she’d hurtmelike this.
I believed her when she told me the kiss with Mr. Sharpe was a mistake, something never to be repeated.I’m such an idiot.
If I told the truth, Nathan would categorize me as another person who hid things from him, even though my intentions were noble. His baseball career hinged on a successful camp this past summer, and bothering him about drama at home could’ve thrown off his game. Nathan’s dreams were too important.
“You knew,” Nathan whispered, his eyes studying my face, reading me as he always could.
He might believe me if I lied convincingly enough, but it wasn’t a skill I’d ever mastered. And I didn’t want to start lying to him now. We’d told each other the truth our entire lives.He loved me. I had to trust in that, trust he could forgive me eventually.
“I-I saw them once over the summer, but they told me it was a mistake. That they would stop. I believed them. I trusted them—”
His hand flexed into a fist. “How could you not tell me?”
“It would’ve been a distraction—”
