“I know,” he says. “I barely survived.” After a moment, he reaches over and grabs my hand. “But in all seriousness, I’m here to listen if you need to cry or vent or whatever. I know I don’t get all of the omega stuff, and I personally think you should tell Mark. But it’syourlife. I’ll support you however I can.”
“I know. I just… I’ve kept this secret for so long, Jack,” I say quietly. “I don’t even know how to let someone in anymore. Mom and Dad gave up so much so I could have the chance to write my own story.”
He lets out a slow breath and leans back. “You know I love Mom and Dad. I get that they thought they were doing what was best for you. And from the outside, maybe they were. You’ve got a good life. A great one, even.”
“NowIhear abutcoming,” I say.
His expression shifts, the grin replaced by something far more somber. It’s such a rare look on him that it carries more weight than it probably would from anyone else.
“But you’re fucking lonely,” he says, “and miserable. And I’ve watched too many of my friends tear themselves apart because they felt like they had to hide who they really were. Pretending. Shrinking themselves to fit what everyone else expects. That’s no way to live your life, sis.”
I blink in surprise. Who knew my baby brother could be so insightful?
Just as quickly as it came, the seriousness is gone. “Now,” he says, standing and grabbing my hand, pulling me to stand beside him. “There’s only one thing that can truly cure a hangover and a case of the blues.”
My lips twitch at the corners. “What’s that?”
“Ice cream. Ice cream always helps. Come on, let’s go get some. I’ll even buy.”
I whine at theidea of leaving the couch, but he drags me along by my arm.
“Come on, lazybones,” he says. “I can hear mint chocolate chip calling my name.”
I trail after him, shaking my head, smiling despite myself. In the elevator, he whistles while he presses the call button, rocking back on his heels like he has nowhere else he would rather be. For all his himbo energy, there is no one more loyal or protective than Jack.
The ice cream shop down the street smells like sugar and waffle cones the second we step inside. It has a very vintage soda shop vibe, with framed ads from the ‘50s scattered around the room and pale pink walls. The mint green ice cream case hosts over twenty flavors that rotate out monthly. A couple of kids at one of the tables are arguing about who got more sprinkles while their parents look on.
Jack studies the menu with the seriousness of a surgeon selecting the proper blade. I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Just choose something so the poor girl can get it scooped.” I give her a smile.
“Um, excuse you,” he says, wagging a finger at me. “One doesn’t just rush these kinds of things.”
I move closer to the case. “Well, while Mr. Indecisive here tries to come up with the perfect ice cream blend, I’ll take a scoop of vanilla with crushed Reese’s Cups and sliced bananas, please. Oh, and some hot fudge.”
“See, you always get the same thing. Boring,” Jack admonishes.
After he finally makes a choice—waffle cone with powdered jelly donut and honey sponge cake flavors—we find a small table near the window. He talks through the first few bites, launching into whatever new fitness kick he’s on this week, something about cold plunges? It sounds like a form of medieval torture to me, and when he presses me to give it a shot, I give him a look that has sent many a witness into a panic.
“Fiiiiine. But you’re missing out on the benefits,” he says.
Mateo calls halfway through, managing to snag a break on his shift at the hospital. Jack answers immediately and flips the phone to the video chat, holding it up so I can wave.
“You whores! You got ice cream without me?” Mateo chides.
“You should be here! Jack said I looked like shit, and the only solution was ice cream,” I say with a laugh.
“Well, some of us aren’t trust fund babies, and the trauma nurse life waits for no one. You two behaving?”
“Define behaving,” Jack demands with faux seriousness.
I can feel the tension slowly unwinding from my body. Things don’t seem quite as heavy as they did an hour ago. I know how I feel about Mark when I’m honest with myself. But I don’t know if I’m capable of letting him in, and it’s not fair to keep stringing him along while I try to figure it out.
I still owe him that conversation, even if it’s to finally end things. It’s the right thing to do.
Chapter Sixteen
Mark
As expected, Idon’t hear anything from Ava. So I try to fill my day with running errands, working out, and laundry in an attempt to do anything besides look at my phone. Her walls are firmly back in place, and they’ll stay that way unless we end up in bed together again.
