Page 107
His eyes squinted.
“He called her . . .” The word stuck somewhere behind my teeth. “. . . something.”
Understanding flashed over his features almost instantly. His jaw clenched. If there was one thing Jonah had always been incapable of ignoring, it was someone hurting a woman. I’d watched him protect Landry his whole life. The silence weighed heavier than the noise of the gym.
“Is she okay?”
Not yet. But she would be. I rubbed the back of my neck.
“Shaken.”
The word sat heavy between us.
“But . . .” I let out a slow breath. “She stayed.” And somehow, that meant more than if she’d told me everything was okay.
Jonah nodded once.
“I told her the truth.”
He studied me for a long second. “Everything?”
A humorless laugh slipped out. “No.” My gaze dropped to the floor. “Not everything.”
Hell, Jonah and Soren still didn’t know all of it. They weren’t blind—they’d watched depression hollow me out piece by piece—but they’d never pushed. They’d simply stayed close and waited until I was ready to hand them the parts I’d kept hidden.
“You’re cutting him off?” It wasn't really a question. Just a conclusion.
I nodded. “Yeah, it’s time.”
Jonah searched my face. “You okay?”
The question caught somewhere under my ribs. Maybe this was what family was supposed to feel like—not blood, but people who noticed when something changed. People who stayed.
The heavy bag still swung between us, slowing with every pass. Above it, the metal clip caught my reflection, distorted enough that I barely recognized myself. The kid who’d spent years chasing approval. The man who’d convinced himself one more win, one more achievement, one more sacrifice might finally earn the words he’d spent his whole life waiting to hear.
“I should’ve done it years ago.”
Jonah didn’t argue. Didn’t tell me to think it over or leave the door cracked. He just nodded.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” I expected him to have more to say.
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “You’ve spent years trying to fix something you never broke.”
The words found a place in me that I’d been avoiding for years.
“He’s your dad, Lane. That doesn’t mean he gets unlimited chances to hurt you.”
That was the part that made it complicated. Because Bryant was still my father. Every report card, every championship, every milestone had been met with another critique, another reason I could’ve done better. Even as a little kid, I’d handed over every accomplishment like an offering, hoping this one might finally be enough.
It never was.
Jonah stood. “You need backup?”
I looked up. The question was so completely Jonah that I almost smiled. “What are you going to do?”
He shrugged. “Depends.”
