I’ve tried to tell myself that a thousand times, but the weight on my chest hasn’t budged.
“You need therapy,” Tyler says quietly. I blink at him, surprised. “You lived through a trauma, Alex. You’ve been punishing yourself for years. You need help.” Then his mouth tilts into a crooked smile. “And maybe you can work on that narcissism while you’re at it. Only a narcissist would manage to take credit for paralyzing a guy while saving his life.”
A half-laugh escapes. “Maybe you’re right.”
“That’s why you’ve stayed away?” Mom asks, her voice breaking. “Because you were ashamed?”
“Yeah.” I rake my hand through my hair. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.” The words feel like gravel in my mouth. “I was scared of what you would think of me if you knew, but maybe…” My voice falters. “Maybe I also thought I didn’t deserve to have you…?” The realization hits me as I’m saying it.
“Therapy,” Tyler says, leaning back with a knowing look. “Trust me.”
I stare at him, stunned. Has Tyler been in therapy? When he talks about trauma, it sounds like he’s speaking from personal experience. When did he suffer through his own trauma? Does he have secrets of his own?
“Bob,” Mom says, turning her gaze to my father. “How did you find out about all of this?”
“Alex called me from the crash site,” Dad says quietly. “After the police and EMS got there. I told him to let me know where they were taking him, and I left and met him there.”
“He was hours away,” Mom says in disbelief. “How did you even get away?”
“Remember when I told you my sister Sylvia was having trouble with her second husband and needed my help?” She nods. “That was then.”
“You were gone for days.”
“Alex had a concussion, so I stayed to make sure he was okay.” He gives me an apologetic smile. “Maybe I didn’t stay long enough.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” Mom demands, her voice sharp now.
“The only way Alex would tell me what was going on was if I promised not to tell anyone—especially you. I’ve tried to get him to release me from the promise, but…”
“There’s one thing you can always count on,” I say softly, “and that’s that Dr. Robert King is a man of his word.” Guilt spears through me as I realize how much damage forcing him to keep my secret has caused. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
He nods, his eyes glassy.
Tyler sits back in his chair. “Wow. You really do suck at asking for help, huh?” His tone is light. There’s no malice behind it—just brotherly love.
“Did Deidre get in trouble?” Mallory asks.
“She was charged with DUI and a couple of misdemeanors. She ended up with probation, but we broke up because she tried to claim the crash wasn’t her fault—that it had nothing to do with her .08 blood alcohol level. I couldn’t stomach her lack of guilt when I was drowning in mine, so I ended it.”
Silence hangs heavy for several seconds before I take another breath. “And since we’re on the subject of confessions, I’ve got one more.”
All eyes swing to me.
“There’s no way to ease into this, so I’m just going to come out and say it: Grant, you were right. Finley is the barista at my coffee shop. I hired her to play my girlfriend, so I wouldn’t have to sleep on the sofa bed.”
Chaos detonates. Everyone starts talking at once.
Tyler blows up first. “So, what—her whole orphan act was fake? Tell me she was at least paid extra for the tragic backstory.”
Grant pumps his fist. “I knew it! Pay up, Tyler!”
Mom bursts into tears. “You used that poor, sweet girl—on Christmas, no less. How could you?”
Dad doesn’t say a word. He just stares at me, the disappointment on his face louder than any words could be.
Mallory shoots to her feet and lets out a piercing wolf whistle. Everyone freezes, mid-yell, like kids caught by their teacher.
“Thank you for your attention,” she says matter-of-factly.
