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Moving home was the first step of taking my life back. But finding out . . . knowing that there werethesesecrets between my brothers and me, made me I snap.
I took all my anger out on them and poor Ryan who sat beside me. I said mean and hurtful things to each of them. I shouted at them in the middle of a diner. Patrons watched me throwing my hands around and yelling about how they were supposed to be my family and shouldn’t keep secrets from me.
From there, it only got worse. It progressed to me shouting about how they weren’t there for me. How they didn’t help me or protect me. I’m not sure why I would blame them for any of my suffering when I made it a point to hide it from all of them.
The truth is I blame myself.
I blamed myself for being stupid, for staying with such a man, for not leaving sooner.
Most of all I was angry that I was absolutely in love with the person sitting beside me in that booth that day and had never been able to tell him.
Since that lunch, we have spoken very little.
My conversations with Conor and Ryan have only been about the trust, the gym, and our family home. I’ve kept my distance from all of them, trying to get my life and myself together.
I know Conor and Finn both feel incredibly guilty for waiting to tell me, and I know they feel like they failed me—that they didn’t feel like they protected me.
The truth is, I’m not theirs to protect.
I shouldn’t have made them feel that way. I knew then that I needed to face them and make things right but instead, I’ve avoided them.
Ryan has tried to reach out. He has texted and called, but again, I’ve acted like a coward and haven’t answered him.
Well, that’s until last night.
After dragging the delivered box inside my apartment—the very large box holding a humongous artificial tree—I pour a glass of wine, and then a second glass shortly after that one. Once I was on my third glass, I stared at his contact information on my phone.
After several minutes of taping the side of my phone, turning it on and off, I opened the text messages Ryan had sent me over the past few weeks.
Ryan: I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.
Ryan: Are you okay?
Ryan: Kenna, I’m so sorry.
Ryan: Please, answer me, Kenna.
Ryan: I’m worried. Please let me know if you’re okay.
I scrolled through weeks of texts that he had sent with absolutely no reply from me.
Ugh. I’m so stupid.I should’ve just answered him.
I finally came to the end of his message, and read the last text Ryan sent, which was over a week ago.
Ryan: I love you.
My hands began to shake. I had to place the wine glass on the table. Holding the phone with both hands, I watched the words on my phone bounce around, as my phone went from one hand to another, shaking all the while.
Wait. Did he just admit he loves me?
I hit the reply button and quickly typed out a single reply.
ME: What?
I saw he read the text immediately, but instead of the bubbles appearing on the phone, telling me he was typing back, my phone rang. Startled, and not expecting an actual call from him, I jumped.
The phone bounced out of my hands and onto the sofa beside me.
