“So, tell me. Don’t hide things from me and then expect me to know them. I’m on your side here. I’vealwaysbeen on your side, but you need to help me understand so I know how to move,” I explain, half-rambling as desperation coats my tongue.
He shakes his head. “I can’t. You just need to trust me.”
“We don’t keep secrets from each other,” I say before immediately shutting my mouth.
That’s not true anymore.
I have one that’s burning a hole in my heart. Still, I keep it to myself. This isn’t the time for me to tell him that I’m falling for his coach, and I’m pretty sure he’s falling for me, too. Or that I’m failing in doing the one thing he’s warned me not to from the moment he joined this team.
“This isn’t a secret that you can learn and let go. Just drop it, Brielle. I mean it.”
He moves around the kitchen like an angry bull, bumping into a bar stool and clinking cups together as he searches the cupboards. Mom reorganizes so often that nothing ever stays in the same place for long, but after slamming three cupboard doors, he reaches inside the fourth and roughly grabs a stack of plates.
“I’m not going to go out there and eat cake like nothing’s wrong.” I step in front of him and grab the opposite side of the plates, tugging once. “Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”
He blows out a breath through his nose. “Let go.”
I pull harder, ignoring the sound of glass scraping when his grip loosens. “Not until you tell me what’s going on between you and Dad.”
“Fuck—just leave it. You’ll only break your own heart.”
“I’m not a little girl anymore. I can handle the hard shit in life. Let me help you. Please. I need to know what to do here.”
A raw, ravaging anger flares in his eyes before his lips part, and words I couldn’t have expected in a million years escape him.
“Dad’s a fucking cheater, Brielle. He’s a piece of shit who doesn’t deserve to sit in that ugly chair and have Mom wait on him ever again. But she knows, and she hasn’t left him. She won’t. So you can do whatever the fuck you want, but I can’t be here anymore.”
He releases the plates.
So do I.
They crash to the floor and shatter.
He sucks in a breath and stares at me, his eyes wide but still just as angry. The concern dissipates the moment he sweeps his eyes over my legs and feet and realizes I’m not hurt. Then, he’s gone, and I stumble back a step, finding it hard to breathe.
There’s a weight on my chest that’s growing in size by the second. I reach up and rub at where it’s crushing me but feel nothing there besides thin fabric.
“What happened?” Mom shrieks, rushing into the room.
I stare at her, but she looks different now. Like a stranger. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
It’s like I can feel when he enters the room. There’s a shift in the air as it begins to sour, the stench burning the back of my throat.
“How many times has he cheated on you?”
Mom’s inhale is as sharp as it is exposing. “Brielle, honey, this isn’t the time for this conversation. You don’t understand.”
I ignore her, moving on autopilot. My blood pumps hot through my veins as I reach for the cake and carry it with me toward the archway. Dad’s piercing gaze finds mine, and for the first time in all my life, it’s full of shame.
“Don’t go yet, Brielle,” he pleads, reaching a hand out for me.
Evading it, I keep my eyes on his and launch the cake directly into his two-timing mouth.
36
BRIELLE
