I was just there, trying to figure out how bad he’d crash.
“You want to know what’s fucked up?” he asked, his voice lower, more controlled, but it was about to break. “I don’t even know who I am without being your older brother.” His gaze fixated somewhere past us now. “That was my role. That was my reason. That was… everything.”
“And you think that just disappears because of some DNA?”
“I was built on something that doesn’t exist.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“I don’t know how this works anymore,” he said flatly.
“You’re still you,” Isla chimed in. She couldn’t watch him spiral without saying anything. Even if it didn’t help, she had to try, and I loved that about her. “This doesn’t change who you are inside.”
“You don’t get to say that,” he argued.
“Julius—”
“No.” He shook his head once.
“I’m not saying it’s not?—”
“You are, Mouse. You’re trying to make this smaller than it is.”
“No.” I intervened. “We’re just trying to keep you from losing yourself over this.”
“This is just the tip of the iceberg. We still don’t know who the father is.”
Silence again.
It was thick, suffocating.
“You’re not losing anything.” I stepped closer to him. “I’m still right here and so is she, and so is the baby.”
“Ourbaby,” Isla exclaimed.
There was a filter. No restraint on her part. She said it with so much determination, so much confirmation. Like all of a sudden, the paternity of the baby didn’t matter to her, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same.
The paternity of the baby seemed so small compared to what was currently happening in Julius’s world. This didn’t change anything for me, but I wasn’t the one whose identity was rocked.
Fuck you, Joe. Fuck you, Melody. You’ll burn in hell for this shit.
I hated that I was seeing Julius in pain. I wasn’t used to it. I was usually the one inflicting it, and I guess in a way, I still was.
“There’s no fixing this when I’ve always fixed everything.”
“Julius.” I stepped closer to him. “You don’t need to fix it. It doesn’t change anything.”
“My whole life was built on a lie.”
“It wasn’t a lie. You’ll always be my brother.”
“I need air.” He abruptly moved toward the door, and I grabbed his arm, but he yanked it away.
“I’m serious,” he snapped. “I need a second before I say something I can’t take back.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“That’s exactly how this works. If I stay in this room for another minute, I’m going to break something, and I don’t mean a conversation.”
