“In front of your whole family,” Troy adds quietly. “And… you asked me to kiss you.”
Everything inside me goes cold. Panic seizes the air in my lungs.
Oh my god.
The monitor beside the bed starts beeping faster, the rapid chirping filling the room as my pulse spikes.
I’ve ruined everything.
My breath comes out in sharp, painful bursts. I clutch at my stomach, my ribs throbbing with a fierce, piercing ache.
“Ash,” Troy says quickly.
His hand closes around mine, squeezing tight. I didn’t even realize he’d reached for me until his fingers lace through mine.
“Hey, hey—look at me.”
His other hand comes up, gently cupping my cheek and turning my face toward him.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay.”
My chest heaves as I try to breathe through the panic clawing at my lungs.
Olivia steps closer, brushing her hand softly through my hair. “We love you, Ash,” she says quietly. “All of us. And to be honest… I kinda already knew. Or at least, I had a gut feeling.”
Chloe gives a small, reassuring smile. “We’re here for you. That’s not going to change.”
Justin shrugs a little. “Yeah. We don’t care who you date.”
Olivia nods in agreement. “We just want you to be happy.”
I blink a few times. “What about Mom and Dad? Were they… angry?”
Olivia frowns. “Yeah. They left,” she says, her voice low and tense. “They’re… not happy.”
I scoff. “I just had surgery, and they left the goddamn hospital? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“We’re mad at them too,” Chloe cuts in.
“And they’re not coming back?” I ask, my voice cracking despite my best efforts.
Olivia shakes her head sadly, confirming what I’d already feared.
A bitter laugh scrapes its way out of my chest.
Of course they left.
I always knew this day would come eventually. I spent my whole life bracing for it—waiting for the moment my father realized I wasn’t the son he tried so hard to shape. The tough one. The straight one. The one who would take over the farm someday, marry a nice girl, give him grandkids, and carry on the Tremblay name exactly the way he envisioned it.
But that version of me never existed.
I can practically hear his voice in my head now—sharp, cold, final. The same tone he used when I made a mistake as a kid or showed any form of weakness. The same one he used anytime I fell short of whatever impossible standard he’d set that day.
And Mom… well. Mom has always been quieter. Gentler. But she’s spent her entire life orbiting around my father like he’s the sun, bending to whatever gravity he pulls her into. Too timid to challenge him. Too afraid to stand up to him, even when it mattered.
Even when it was for her own son.
If Dad walked out, she was always going to follow.
