I had nothing.
I couldn’t fix this.
The only thing I could do was spill more truth. “Julius, that doesn’t change what we are.”
He shook his head. “It changes everything.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I urged, stepping forward without thinking, closing the space between us.
I couldn’t stand the distance that was already forming there. The wall that he was already building, the way he was pulling away as if he didn’t want to look at me anymore. Like he didn’t want to look at me ever again because it hurt him too much.
Julius sacrificed his entire life for me, but just because we weren’t blood related, it didn’t mean we weren’t family. I needed him to understand that. The only thing that changed was our DNA. We already knew Joe and Melody were trash, but fuck… this put a whole different spin on it.
Is that why they left? Is that why they chose Julius to raise me?
There were hundreds of questions we’d never get answered.
Did Joe even know the truth? How could he keep something this huge from us? Is that why she came back? Is that why she OD’d?
I couldn’t keep up with the turmoil, knowing Julius was experiencing far worse than I was.
I didn’t hold back, adding, “We grew up together. You raised me. That doesn’t just disappear because of a goddamn test, Julius. Do you understand me?”
“It does if that’s the only reason I made half the choices I did.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“Is it?” he challenged, his eyes firmly focused on me. They were sharp and raw, completely unglued in a way I’d never seen them. “Tell me, Kraven… did you put your life on hold for me?”
I opened my mouth but quickly shut it.
“That’s what I thought,” he scoffed. “That’s what I fucking thought.”
I felt like I was watching something collapse in slow motion. It wasn’t loud or violent. It was just piece by piece, right in front of me, and I couldn’t stop it. No matter what I said, he was drowning. No life raft would save him from himself.
“Stop,” Isla’s voice was shaking. “Both of you… just stop for a second.”
Neither of us listened.
“Nothing about this makes sense.” Julius’s voice was tighter, more strained. He was trying to hold on to something already slipping from his grasp.
“Then don’t let it change everything,” I replied, praying he saw reason.
“Itdoeschange everything.”
“No, it doesn’t. You don’t just stop being what you are to me because of this.”
“And what am I?” Julius demanded. “Tell me, what am I to you now?”
The question slammed into me. There wasn’t a clean answer. There wasn’t a safe one either. I didn’t respond immediately. Instead, there was just more silence, more hesitation from everyone.
“You don’t even know,” Julius murmured, cutting deeper. It was more final. “That’s the problem.”
“I know enough,” I shot back.
“No.” Julius shook his head slowly. “You don’t.”
I couldn’t breathe right. It was the first thing I noticed. The way my chest felt too tight, how every inhale didn’t go deep enough to matter.
