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“She was never supposed to be my sister!” I burst out, my head falling back against the wall as venomous tears drench my eyes. My chest caves in, my ribs burn, my breath hitches. “And it’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair,” I chant, broken and hopeless. “She was supposed to be Theo’s sister and we were going to grow up together as neighbors. I would’ve just been a regular boy who had a crush on a regular girl, and that boy would have fallen in love with that girl the right way.”
Samantha stills beside me, her own eyes watering.
Andrew goes silent. Watchful. His face untwists as he listens.
A growl funnels through me, and I slam my fist to the floor. “It’s not fair that my father had to lose his fucking mind and ruin my life, taking my mother away from me while also destroying any chance I had of a future with that girl—that amazing, incredible girl with the purest heart I’ve ever known.”
My own heart feels strangled and smothered as I push out more words. Sweat dots my brow while adrenaline courses through me. “The girl who removes all the purple taffies out of the bag because she knows I don’t like purple, and who wears perfume that smells like desserts because it reminds me of my mother, and who bakes me things even though she doesn’t like to bake because she knows I love sweets, and who’s brave and kind and so fucking good it’s impossible to see any other girl but her.”
Wetness trickles down my cheeks as I crumple, defeated, against the wall, breathing hard. “I love June. I’m in love with June…madly, completely, infinitely. I’m in so deep, there’s no way out. And I’d love her no matter what, regardless of the circumstances, regardless of if we were neighbors, friends, classmates, or strangers. I was always meant to love her.” I swallow and close my eyes. “But these are the cards I was given. These are the shitty, unfair circumstances I was forced into, and instead of a blessing my love for her is a curse. And I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry for that.”
My chest aches from my tormented breaths, and my jaw throbs from Andrew’s fist.
Samantha places a tender hand along my shoulder, a small comfort.
And as I sit there with my eyes squeezed shut and my fists balled on the floor at my sides, Andrew’s voice breaks the silence.
“I’m sorry for striking you.”
I open my eyes, his haggard stance barely visible through my blurred vision. But I see the contrition in his eyes. I see his own guilt.
Andrew takes two full strides backward and lets out a harrowing sigh. “But I still can’t look at you,” he finishes, running both hands through his salt-and-pepper hair. “I don’t know when I’ll ever be able to look at you.”
Andrew spins around and stalks away, disappearing up the staircase, his footsteps mimicking my thunderous heartbeats.
My eyes close again.
The man who raised me as his own son, who gave me shelter and love and unconditional support, sees me as a monster.
A traitor.
Samantha squeezes my arm, likely trying to cease my tremors.
I shrug her away. “Don’t. You don’t have to pretend to still love me just because a piece of paper says you should.”
Just hate me.
Hate me like he does.
Hate me like I hate myself.
“That’s absurd and you know it,” Samantha says softly but firmly. She moves in closer, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and tugging me to her. “This has been a shock, that’s true. It feels like a boulder in the pit of my stomach, and I’ve hardly slept in days. I’m not sure when, or if, I’ll ever be able to accept it.”
My head falls against her chest as I exhale slowly.
“But I understand it,” she says.
She takes my hand in hers and squeezes, and I’m thrown back to my early days of childhood with the Baileys, when I was six years old and all I needed was a mother’s love. I’d been caught in June’s nursery, trying to comfort her with a toy.
Samantha had ushered me toward her on the rocking chair, telling me that I’d done a kind thing.
“I’ll love you like my very own, Brant. I’ll love you like Caroline loved you. You have my word.”
The memory shoots more tears to my eyes because I don’t know if I ever returned that promise.
She loved me like I was her own son, yet I could never call her “Mom.” I refused to take their last name because that would make me theirs—and I belonged to Caroline Elliott.
But still, even now, she comforts me like I’m hers, despite the fact that I’ve betrayed her in the worst possible way.
