Her eyes search my face. I’m not sure what she’s looking for, but my skin warms under her gaze. Softly, she asks, “Why are you against relationships? Why do you not trust yourself?”
Something turns in my stomach, forcing me to set the rest of my burger down. Iwatch the screen for a moment, debating how extensively to answer her question.
A part of me wants to brush it off. Distract and deflect. Crack a joke to ease the tension.
But when I look her way, her expression is so open, so tender. She has trusted me with a lot over the last few weeks—left tears in my shirt and let me see the soft, vulnerable parts of her that I suspect not many people get to see.
And in the face of that, I can’t bring myself to be anything but honest.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I start with, “I’ve always had this... fear lurking in the back of my mind that anger is sitting right below the surface of my skin, waiting to jump out at any moment.”
Her hand curves around my wrist. “Theo,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not an angry person.”
I almost laugh. “Fabes, you were there the first time. You saw me in high school—in fights on a regular basis. Iwas an angry kid.”
Her forehead scrunches. “That was a long time ago.”
“I nearly hit Philip the other night.” Needing something to do with my hands, I fiddle with my beer bottle. “And I wouldn’t have felt guilty about it. It has always been so easy for me to hit someone. That rage is right there, on a hairpin trigger.”
Fable’s silence feels like it’s clawing its way inside my chest. She appears to be working through her response, but I don’t want her pity. Ijust need her to understand where I’m coming from.
I clear my throat and sit up straighter. “I’ve found other ways to control my emotions—running, deep breathing, cold showers, talking to Maddox. But the biggest thing that makes me feel in control is to keep a wall up so everyone stays safe. I don’t want to get into a relationship with someone, fall in love and build a life together, only for that rage to bubble to the surface when I leastexpect it. I saw what that did to Mom and Mia—the emotional and physical trauma they went through—and I can’t risk that.”
Her eyes are glassy as she simply says, “You’re nothing like him, Theo.”
I wish I could believe her—ignore this nagging feeling and separate myself from him. But he made sure that was impossible when he wrote me the letter that still echoes in my mind daily.
It arrived at my grandparents’ house in a plain white envelope a few years after he’d been released from jail. There was no return address, but I recognized his handwriting immediately. Ishoved the letter in the back of my closet and spent weeks debating whether I should open it or burn it.
But one dark day, my curiosity got the best of me.
With shaky hands, I tore into it, and bits and pieces etched themselves into my brain without my permission.I’m so proud of the man you are. You’ve always taken after me. From the moment you were born with my eyes, I knew we would be close. Ibet you look just like me now.
All of it felt like a warning. A sentencing. A giant flashing red sign—he approves of you, which is the most damning information you could receive.
And I’ve been carrying that knowledge with me since.
“How do you know?” leaves my throat before I can stop it.
Her gaze is unwavering. “Because I knowyou,” she says, her voice steady.
I shake my head. “I’ve hurt people, Fabes. I’ve hurt you.”
A sad smile curves her mouth. “Why did you punch Graham in tenth grade?”
“Kylie was crying, and he was forcing her into his car. He wouldn’t stop.” I can still feel the satisfaction in my veins from when I gave him that black eye.
“And what about Porter?” she asks.
My fingers tighten around the bottle. “He called Mia a bitch in front of the football team.”
Now she looks slightly nervous as she asks, “And Blake?”
I hold her gaze, my mind slipping right back to that night. When I showed up at that New Year’s Eve party to find Fable’s swollen eyes and tearstained cheeks, all it took was one look from my sister to know whose fault it was.
“Because he cheated on you.”
“You didn’t know that at the time,” she points out softly.
