They were both in high school when Jacob committed suicide.
John was a senior, and Justine was a freshman. They took it exceptionally hard and made a pact on the day of their brother’s funeral that they would always tell each other if something was going on, no matter what. They would be each other’s ‘first to know’ phone call or conversation. Mom and Dad were relegated to second place from that day on. Not out of distrust or lack of love, but something about losing a sibling had changed their relationship, mostly for the better, bonding them in their shared trauma and going through the waves of grief together.
“You’re right,” John replied. “I should’ve told you.”
“Who is she?”
His chin jerked back.
She.
Nope. Not a she.
“Is it someone you work with? Tinder? Bumble? Peacock—fuck if I know anything about dating apps these days,” Justine rushed out.
“Maybe we can talk about it later…?” he suggested delicately.
Justine balked and then glanced around at the empty cemetery. “Are you serious?”
He shot her a stern look that would normally have medical students running in fear. But unfortunately for him, Justine was made of sterner stuff than that.
She folded her arms defiantly across her chest, waiting, intentionally tapping her fingers on her arm.
“It’s complicated,” he muttered, trying to stall the inevitable.
“What is?”
“My relationship.”
“So, itisa relationship?” she asked, gaping.
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean, maybe?”
“Justine,” he said sternly.
“Johnny,” she mimicked in the same tone.
He groaned, raking his fingers through his hair and then the back of his neck.
Just rip the band-aid off.
“Fine, okay, yes, it’s a co-worker. No, we’re not official because he’s still finishing his residency.”
Justine’s face remained perfectly still, and he held his breath. Her silence felt deafening. He waited for several long heartbeats, wondering how she would react and hoping to hell it didn’t hurt too much if she reacted badly.
“Say something,” he croaked, his throat aching.
Justine’s eyes held his, beginning to water, yet her expression was firm. “He?”
He simply nodded, unable to speak, never realizing how hard this conversation would be.
She blinked rapidly as though downloading and absorbing the information. “How long?”
“How long…?”
“How long have you known you were…” She froze, tears sliding down her freckled cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I wouldn’t understand? That I wasn’t safe?”
