“I don’t hand my heart to people.” The bleeding in my nose had stopped. I dabbed at the last of it and held out the soiled handkerchief to Jeremy, who raised his hand.
“Keep it.”
John shifted, ignoring the growing circle of spectators. “Let me explain.”
I wanted to shoot him down, but when I saw the pleading expression in his eyes, I just nodded.
His shoulders dropped. “You were right. It was a bet.”
I winced.
“My father…Lew, he wouldn’t give me anything without a taunt. He baited me. I had to prove I was worthy of his stories, his…legacy. So we made a bet. If I could win on my own, I would keep the house.”
“The cabin,” I whispered, remembering the childhood drawings hidden under the bed.
He nodded, his shoulders sinking further. “It was stupid. Arrogant. I shouldn’t have taken someone else’s place. But unfortunately I suffer from the affinity most children do towards their parents, sometimes undeserving. We want to make them proud.”
His gaze never wavered from my face, even as more and more people gathered around us, phones out, filming this very public confession.
It made sense now. John had wanted to hold on to something that felt like home.
“Say something,” he pleaded.
I laughed bitterly. “I took your silence as a sign that this was over.”
“My silence? You blocked me everywhere,” he said, a touch of amusement in his voice. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me. I sent you a dozen emails. I called nonstop. And when I couldn’t reach you, I called your friend—” He waved at Otis.
“Otis would’ve told me,” I muttered.
“Would he?” John raised an eyebrow.
I turned and saw Otis shrug. “I thought we decided we hated him.”
I sighed, dropping my shoulders.
“I called. Texted. Emailed. Hell, I sent so many flowers, my credit card was in the red. I thought you didn’t want to hear from me.”
The flowers. On Mom’s table. A new batch every week. “You called?”
“So much that I was sure the police would arrest me for stalking.” Another step closer. I could touch him if I reached out.
“And Vivian?” I whispered, so only he could hear.
He closed his eyes, regret washing over him. “She… I’m sorry. She can be overprotective. She should’ve let you see me.”
“So you two aren’t…really? Never were?”
He shook his head. “She told me you came to see me. By the time she did, you were gone. She feels awful about it.”
She had been hard on me because she was protective of him. Like I would’ve been with Otis.
I swallowed. “I’m sorry about your dad.”
His face softened. “I know.”
“What happened to the house?”
“It’s mine. It always would have been. He was just playing games.”
