Page 98 of True Blue

"No, that sounds like Mom," Stephanie says, disgust lacing every word. "Danielle and I wanted to say something so many times, but we were scared you'd dig in. Or worse, tell her, and then she'd do what she always does—rewrite the whole story until she's the victim and you're back in line. Hold on, Danielle's finally calling me back—hey, Theo's here with Luke and Heath."

Danielle's voice comes on the line.

"Uh," Danielle drawls, "why did I just get sent a video of you going off on our family?"

"What?" I say, jerking upright.

"Hold on, I'll send it to you."

Pulling my phone from my pocket, sure enough, one of my little cousins uploaded the whole fucking thing to social media. Fuck, and it's already gone semi-viral.

"Oh, fuck..." I whisper.

Luke and Heath look over my shoulder, watching the entire thing and adding their own commentary.

They each squeezed my shoulder when I confronted my Dad.

Heath lightened the moment by pouting. "Aw, that cake looked good."

"You sure as hell didn't hold back on Lily," Luke winces.

"About fucking time," Heath nudges my shoulder.

I watch numbly as I finally stand up to my mother.

"That parting line was chef's kiss," Luke snickers.

My mom's scream is cut off in the video.

"Goddamn, your mom can sing," Heath cringes, jokingly rubbing his ear like his eardrum just burst.

Surprisingly, I don't feel humiliated watching me and my rage as I defend Indie, defend myself from my toxic family. Instead, it feels real. Terrifying, and overdue, but real.

"So, Indie dumped your ass, I take it?"

My chest feels tight, my breathing shortens, and I rub at the spot over my heart as it burns. Indie is gone. I hurt Indie. Over and over again. With my words. My actions. My lack of action. My lack of care for her and her feelings. My assumption that she would just stay and deal, that she would never leave me, like I would never leave her.

I did leave her. I killed the relationship. I just tossed her the gun.

"I don't—" My voice breaks. "I can't—I won't⁠—"

"Hey," Luke is suddenly in front of me, kneeling. "Breathe."

But all I can see is her face.

Her broken face.

Every expression is stained in my mind. Her sadness, her exasperation, her frustration, her hurt. All these months that she put up with my bullshit, my family's abuse, my own grief while working through her own.

The exhaustion in her eyes at the end of the day, how tired she was from studying for her boards, and the few tears she allowed herself to shed at the end of a tragic day at work.

And me, half in and half out.

Putting more thought into my own mother's feelings than the love of my life.

Defending my mother, making excuses, being fucking pathetic.

Putting more consideration into my ex-girlfriend's feelings and just telling myself I'll fix it later.