I wait.
"Can I ask you for a favor?" she says, finally turning her gaze toward me.
"Anything," I say.
"Tell me exactly what you remember Meghan telling you about me when you tried to visit me all those years ago. I know you've told me before, but I was upset, and my emotions were out of control. I wasn’t ready to hear it. And after you tell me, I’d like you to give me a signed affidavit documenting what you remember."
"What are you planning?" I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"I'm going to make sure that what happened to me doesn't happen to anyone else."
"You're going after Meghan," I say.
"I can't let this go, Cal. I need closure. Healing—"
"Revenge?" I ask, not to accuse her, but to confirm what I already suspect.
"If what I have planned leads to Meghan losing her job, it’ll be entirely her doing, not mine."
"You’re going to expose her?"
"I’m going to make this right—for myself and for the other girls she might’ve targeted over the years."
I nod in understanding and take a deep breath, the weight of everything I want to say pressing against my chest.
I want to tell her how much I support her decision to right the wrong that was done to her. That despite everything she’s endured over the last ten years, she’s grown into an incredible woman, resilient, noble, with a heart still capable of love after everything that was taken from her.
I want to tell her that I hope she’ll forgive me someday. That even though I’m deeply sorry for what happened, the selfish part of me is glad she’s not my sister, because I’ve fallen in love with her. Fully and hopelessly in love.
But before I can say anything, she speaks.
“So tell me,” she says, pulling me back from my thoughts.
“My parents and I were all told you were a difficult child,” I begin carefully. “That you had behavioral issues and anger problems. Meghan said you were aggressive. That it was in Izzy’s best interest, and yours, that you two be kept apart. She told us Izzy would never bond with her adoptive family if you were in the picture… because your protective nature was obsessive and unhealthy.”
“Aggressive and obsessive?” she snaps, her voice rising in disbelief. “I kept my sister safe for the first four years of her life! We were neglected at best—and sometimes it was worse than that. The abuse wasn’t just verbal. I was the one who stood between her and a slap or a punch. How. Dare. She.”
“I’m sorry,” is all I can say. The pain in her voice guts me. Disbelief, betrayal, heartache. It’s all etched into her face as she tries to stay composed.
“Cal, I was a good kid,” she says, her voice quieter now but no less raw. “The only time I ever raised my voice was when I was begging them to let me see Izzy—Beth.”
“We were on the outside,” I say gently, “begging for them to let Beth see you. And you were on the inside begging for the same thing.”
She closes her eyes, swallowing hard. “Can you even understand how cruel that was?”
“I do,” I say, nodding slowly. “I understand. And I’m so sorry.”
She grows quiet, her jaw tight as she stares out the window, clearly trying to keep her emotions in check. I watch her, searching for the right words to offer. Something to ease the weight she’s carrying. But nothing I can say will soothe this kind of heartbreak. So I grow quiet too.
The silence stretches heavy between us.
“Will you ever forgive me?” I finally ask, my voice low. The guilt of that day squeezes my chest like a vise.
"I want to," she says, still not looking at me. "Maybe someday, I will."
"It's a start," I say, feeling hopeful.
***
