He never said a lot of things.
I yank my hand out of his grasp, the movement reminding me of another time I did that.
On the night I died.
My shock clears up, and I see the situation for what it is. He played me. It doesn’t escape my notice that while I’m surprised to discover he’s from my past life, he’s not surprised at all.
“You knew,” I accuse him. “You knew about me. I had no clue, but you weren’t surprised.”
He glances up at the sky, and I immediately understand the motion—I did the same thing at my first Second Take meeting. He’s wondering what he can and cannot say. Marveling that he’s still here.
I should let him stew, but instead, I offer him a kindness. Or maybe just an impatience.
“They’re not listening. It’s fine to talk about it as long as it’s with someone who was also given a second chance. There’s a support group; they meet twice a month. I can connect you.” I force the last words out. I don’t want to give him the support group. That’s my safe space.
He blinks, processing my words. And then—
“Your book club?”
“That’s how I met Kimiko,” I admit.
Alex lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “That’swhy you lied. I thought you… it doesn’t matter what I thought.”
I have an urge to object, to demand an explanation—but I realize he’s right.
It doesn’t matter what he thought.
What matters is that he’s been lying to me since the beginning.
“How did you know about me?” I demand.
“My caseworker told me,” he says quietly. “I asked them to send me to you—the you that I had lost.”
I scoff. Un-fucking-believable. “You always have to be one step ahead.”
“Joey—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“Why call me Joey?”
“That’s your name.”
“You called me Josephina before.”
It’s such a tiny detail, but it causes my mistrust to grow. Everything about him was a charade. He wasn’t just hiding the fact that he was from the future—he was masking his whole personality. Every kind word, every sweet moment. Every time I marveled that this was the same man from my past. Of course he seemed different—he was making a conscious effort to.
I’m such a fucking fool.
“I wanted to try being the guy who calls you Joey. I wanted to be the guy you could turn to when you needed someone. And I think I did a pretty good job, didn’t I? But it wasn’t enough. You’ll always be in love with Ellie. Nothing I do will change that.”
I shake my head, not just because he’s wrong but because I’m struggling to process. All these months, I thought Alex was getting to know me for the first time, and in that newness I felt exactly what he’s saying: I could try out any version of myself, and he would believe it. I could become a new me, unmarred by anyone’s judgments of my past self.
And the real kicker is, Ilikedthe person I was becoming with Alex by my side.
Except that version of me was a lie—and he knew it. And given his knowledge of it, I feel like every single bit of growth I’ve experienced in the past few months is also a lie.
I hate him for taking that from me.
So I hurl the truth in his face, and I hope it cuts deep.
