Yeah, okay. I could do that. I could walk with him and talk. I wasn’t sure I’d tell him anything, but maybe I’d find a way to let go.
His hand touched my arm, and I rose, following him into the kitchen. I snagged one of Caleb’s canes from his collection by the wall. They never felt right, but it was good enough to keep me from falling on my face in a pile of jagged metal scraps, so I was going to call it a win.
We took the path around the garden, paved with stones along the sides so we could easily keep steady. It curved around his yard, half a mile in total,which wasn’t enough to really get a cardio going, but it was enough to give us some distance from the house.
It took forever before Jonah spoke, and I think in that moment, he knew if he didn’t say anything, neither would I.
“This is about the shit from last year, right?”
I lost myself in the rhythmic tap-swish-tap sound of the cane as we headed toward the back of Caleb’s property fence. I didn’t really have the courage to admit it all, but I also didn’t have much choice.
“Is this some kind of intervention?”
Jonah snorted. “I think Caleb’s dressing it up that way because he’s tired of you sleeping on his couch. But I also think he’s a little freaked-out because he’s never seen you this way.”
I stopped walking and jabbed the cane out until I found the fence to lean against. I was tired. No, I was exhausted. It was a different kind of exhaustion too. I was used to being worn down to the studs with hockey and all the other shit that came with growing up in our family.
But this was nothing like that.
“I met a guy.”
“Vanya—”
“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned. “If you don’t let me say this now, it’s not going to come out, okay?”
“Alright.” He squeezed my arm. “Sorry.”
I took another breath. “I, ah…I need to start over.”
Jonah’s fingers trailed down my arm, then curledaround my wrist. “Come on. I’m pretty sure he sprayed for ants. Let’s go sit in the grass.”
I followed him, and we found a spot, and both of us waited a few moments to make sure we weren’t being piled on. When it was safe, I leaned back on my elbows and turned my face up toward the sun.
“Until very recently—and I meanveryrecently—I didn’t like sex.”
“Micah,” Jonah groaned, “please take this seriously.”
“I am. When we were at school, everyone was getting really into it, and the first guy I’d tried to hook up with, I…” The words died on my tongue, so Jonah found my hand and squeezed it. “I kept telling him I didn’t want to do it, but he wouldn’t stop.”
“Micah,” my brother whispered, his voice tight and ragged. “How did I not know this?”
I let out a thready laugh. “I didn’t tell anyone. I knew he was going to tell everyone what a slut I was when it was over, so I just…I don’t know. I decided to lean in. But when I tried it again with someone I actually liked…” I trailed off, struggling to find the words. “Fuck. I couldn’t get it up. And even when I felt safe and I could, you know, make it happen…I lost it after. I fell apart. And therapy didn’t help with anything. I felt like a freak.”
“You’re not a freak,” he said very softly.
I scoffed. “I know that now, but back then, I was so goddamn lost. But it was easier to pretend, you know? Every time someone assumed I was getting laid, and as long as I wasn’t fucking people we bothknew, no one would ever find out. I could lean into this weird personality I’d created for myself, and for a while, it was fine. I sent everyone weird porn that didn’t actually do anything for me. I let you and everyone else call me a slut, and I had terrible dates that fell apart, but at least I could sleep at night.”
“Jesus,” he breathed out. “I am so fucking sorry.” His hand tightened on mine.
I squeezed back. “Look, I wasn’t ashamed of my reputation. I was terrified of being found out that my entire thing was fake, and I was ashamed of the lie,” I said. I detached from his hand and ran my fingers over the tops of the freshly cut grass. “I toyed with the idea that maybe I was asexual, but that never really seemed to fit. I wanted to have sex. I craved it. I craved having that connection with other people…”
“But what that guy did ruined it?” Jonah offered.
I tilted my face down. “Yeah. And it didn’t help that the people who came after were too careful, you know? They thought because I couldn’t see, I was fragile. They infantilized me in bed, and it made me feel like shit. It made me feel like I wouldn’t ever be able to get past the trauma weighing me down because no one ever gave me the space to figure out what I wanted. What made me feel safe.”
Jonah scoffed. “I wish I didn’t know what that was like.”
I smiled softly. “I know you get that part.”
