“I didn’t cut my dad out of my life,” he continues. “Not completely. I still talk to my dad. I see him.”
The words land slowly, like he’s placing them down one by one, carefully and precisely.
“Not often,” he adds, almost defensively. “But I didn’t walk away the way my brothers did. I couldn’t.” He scrubs a hand over his face, the mask finally cracking. “I didn’t want to lie to you. I just didn’t know how to explain something I’ve never explained to anyone…not even my brothers.”
I sit here, heart thudding, trying to reconcile this truth with the version of the story I thought I knew.
“So tonight,” he says quietly, “when Ford asked me how I knew—why I was at the hospital—I didn’t have an easy answer. And I didn’t want to lie to him either.” He finally turns to look at me. “I’m going to need to talk to him. And I should’ve told you sooner.”
There is a stretch of silence as he waits for me to say something. I know he wants a response, some reassurance, but I pause, trying to find the words I need to say.
“I just wish you’d trusted me,” I say finally. “I know this isn’t simple for you, and that there is a lot about your childhood and your family that I still don’t understand. But this whole time, I was letting myself open up to you. I was telling you things I don’t tell people about my family, about how messed up it all is.” I pause, forcing myself to keep going. “I was trusting you, and that’s not easy for me to do. And I thought you were trusting me too, but you were holding something back. I just…I wish you’d felt like you could tell me. Like I was a safe place for it.”
The silence stretches heavily between us again for a moment.
“I didn’t need every detail,” I add, my voice steady, even asmy chest aches. “It just would have been nice to feel like you trusted me enough to tell me the truth. But when I asked you if you still saw your dad, you told me you didn’t.”
I twist the strap of my bag in my lap, grounding myself. “I’m not angry,” I say, because that part matters. “I just need you to understand why this hurts.”
The engine idles softly, the street outside my apartment dark and still, and for the first time since we started seeing each other, he doesn’t reach for me. No hand on my thigh, no thumb brushing my knuckles.
That’s how I know.
Jesse has always been physical with me. Tonight, he’s pulling away. I open the door and step out into the cool night. I hear him say my name, but I shut the door behind me.
For now, I’ll give him what he needs.
Space.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Jesse
I always knew this was coming. I just didn’t think it would be like this, me coming clean to my brothers while our dad fights for his life in a hospital bed. Now, there are no more excuses. We need to have this conversation whether I’m ready for it or not.
I sent a text to Noah, Wes, and Ford, asking them to meet me at my place at noon. I’ve spent the morning pacing my living room floor, planning what I should say, how I can make them understand why I’ve kept this secret for so long.
By the time my brothers are at my doorstep, my chest feels tight enough to crack.
“Hey, come on in,” I say, stepping aside as they file into the living room. Wes nods a greeting while Noah claps me on the shoulder as he passes. Ford mumbles hello but keeps his distance, standing at the window as our brothers sink into chairs at the dining room table.
There’s an awkward beat of silence as Noah and Wes look at me expectantly, but I’m not sure how to begin.
“So, what’s up?” Noah asks finally. “How come you asked us to come out here?”
I take a breath. Then another. “Dad was hit by a car last night.”
I don’t know what they were expecting me to say, but it definitely wasn’t this. They both stare at me in silence, confusion etched across their faces.
“What?” Noah says finally, looking from Wes to Ford and then back to me.
“He’s alive,” I add quickly. “Barely. Internal bleeding. A lacerated spleen. He had surgery last night and he’s in the ICU now.”
Wes lets out a short, humorless laugh. “You’re joking.”
I shake my head. “I wish I was.”
Noah drags a hand down his face. “How do you even—how do you know this?”
