“Bailey, I don’t want to break up with you,” she says gently. “I wanted to ask what you need from me?”
She still wants to be with me?
I open my eyes to look at Kaitlyn, trying to decide if I heard her right. “You’re not breaking up with me?”
She shakes her head, reaching to squeeze my hand. “That’s the last thing I want, but it’s also about what you want. All I care about is that you’re happy even if it’s not with me.” Hersmile is heartbreaking, and I hate seeing her eyes swollen from crying. “For the record, I do want to be with you.”
“I don’t know why,” I say, each word feeling like I’ve swallowed shards of glass. “I . . . hate what I did. I feel like I’ll never get the ghost of their touch off me. I wasn’t a real person, just something for them to use.”
I know I did it to survive, but that doesn’t make it any easier to remember. Everyone does what they have to, and I’d never judge anyone for it, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel shame for my choices.
“Bailey, you’re real to me. It doesn’t change anything for me because you did what you had to do to survive. I don’t want you to think for a second that you’re alone in this because you’re not.” She takes a deep breath, reaching to tug at her necklaces. “I’m not saying this because of what happened, but I think you need to hear it. I’m in love with you, and I hope you believe me.”
“Every moment with you was real, Kaitlyn. I meant it when I said you’re the only person I’ve ever wanted,” I say, hearing my voice crack because now she knows exactly what it means. “I’m in love with you too.”
She lifts our intertwined hands, pressing a kiss to the back of mine. “I can stay with you while you talk to your parents, or I can go. Just tell me what you need so I can give it to you, but there’s no pressure either way.”
“Will you stay?” I ask, and she nods, standing up.
“Whatever you need.”
I lean down to kiss her, clinging to the feeling as I find the courage to face my parents. “Thank you,” I whisper, feeling a little better knowing my scars aren’t going to cost me the woman I love.
It sounds like my parents are on the phone with their attorney when I walk into the living room. Luna is sitting inthe same spot she was when I left to hide upstairs, and it’s weird to see them in the same room together.
Honestly, it sounds like a bad joke. I wish all of this was a joke.
Kaitlyn’s grip on my hand is unwavering, and it means everything to me knowing she’s here.
“Bash,” Mom says, getting Dad’s attention, and he hangs the phone up immediately to face me.
He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know where to start, and I honestly still don’t, but I’ll tell you everything,” I blurt out, and I wonder if he’s regretting anything he said when we spoke last week.
Maybe this will be the final straw for him, and he’ll realize I’m too damaged to love.
“Wait, let me say something first,” he says, taking a seat next to Mom. “We love you. I love you. None of this will change that,” Dad clarifies, as if somehow reading my mind.
Luna gives me a reassuring smile, and I take a deep breath, tapping my fingers against my knee.
“Parts of the interview Kiera gave were the truth, but a lot of it wasn’t. There was so much that went behind my decision to leave. Kiera’s son, Carter, did reach out to me because he thought we shared a dad. I didn’t believe him at first until he showed me all of these articles about how Dad was engaged to Kiera. His age matched up with the timeline, and if I’m being honest, he looked like you, Dad. I was angry and hurt. I made a mistake when I lit the fire at the house, but I’d found a letter from Dad to you, Mom, and it sounded like an admission. The fire got out of hand too fast, and I couldn’t stop it.”
Dad’s face is indecipherable, but the darkness in his eyes shares the quiet fury he’s trying to smother. I can’t tell if he’s mad at me or the situation. It might be both.
“Why didn’t you come talk to us?” Mom asks, keeping hervoice calm. I’m impressed by their ability to sit here, letting me explain.
The weight on my shoulders is heavy as I recall the day. “I tried. Before I came in, I heard you talking about Kiera with Dad, questioning whether she would have set the fire. Dad said something about the engagement, but I still wasn’t convinced. So I asked if you guys had been together since college, and you lied, saying you had been together the whole time. If you had been together ever since college, then it wouldn’t have been possible for Dad to have broken off an engagement with Kiera like the articles said.”
“I-I forgot about that. I replayed so many of our conversations in my head during the time you weren’t here and that one never even dawned on me,” Mom says, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m sorry I lied, Bailey. Your father and I have a complicated history, and while it’s part of our story, sometimes it’s easier to leave the past in the past.”
“It’s okay. I get it now. The past just always seems to have a way of being dredged up,” I say before moving on to explain my problems with Hunter, and how he intervened between me and Kait. Mom sighs as the final pieces of that mystery click into place for her, but I don’t think Hunter’s a bad person. He just did a bad thing. Hopefully, we’ll get to a place where we can rebuild our relationship.
“The day I found out Kiera had lied was hard. I was angry and hurt, but most of all, I felt guilty. I had painted you as these monsters in my head when it couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m so sorry,” I admit, shifting uncomfortably. I know exactly what my parents’ tempers are like, and while they’ve been calm so far, I think the next part will send them over the edge. “Kiera tried to justify her lies, claiming she meant to tell Carter and I the truth when I showed up, but she saw how much I looked like Dad. She said I acted like you and . . .” I sigh, trying to ground myself by focusing on Kaitlyn’sthumb rubbing back and forth on the back of my hand. “It was like she had gotten a part of you back, and she didn’t want to let me go.”
Well, at least I could predict one thing right.
Mom explodes into a combination of French and English, calling Kiera a number of vulgar names that make me feel like I need to clean my ears out. I don’t catch all of them, but I’m impressed. It only takes me a second to realize Dad’s frozen, staring at his hands clasped so tightly, his knuckles are white.
He clears his throat, dragging a hand over his jaw, slow to make eye contact with me. It’s not anger on his face like I expected, but regret and fear.
