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Bailey jumps up next to me on the couch. My fingers sink into her silky hair. With each stroke of my hand along her warm body, the tension lurking inside me from the past twenty-four hours begins to subside.
Troy hands me a glass of water and sits next to me. Kellan is in an armchair. I sense Troy would prefer it if his brother left us alone. I also sense Kellan has no intention of doing that yet.
Troy knows.
Kellan’s silent warning in the ER room rings in my head, echoing against my tender brain. But just how much does Troy know? As much as I told Kellan? Or do they both know more than I’d originally shared with him?
“Samuel told me…” Troy’s gaze shoots to Kellan, who meets it with a look sharper than a dagger.
“Told you what?” My words sound as dry and scratchy as my throat feels. Keep stroking Bailey. Keep stroking Bailey…
“He mentioned your body is covered in scars. And scars showed up on the X-rays.”
I swallow, pushing down the years of pain that resulted in those scars. Each one tells a story—a story I don’t want to share. I should have known that was what Kellan’s silent warning was about. Zara’s brother had questioned the scars when he’d first seen them.
“They aren’t important. They’re from my past, and that’s where they’re going to stay.” That’s exactly what I told Zara’s brother.
Troy’s expression is that of someone who’s been sucker-punched in the gut with a spiked glove. “You don’t trust me. Do you? Not enough to tell me the truth. I’m your boyfriend, yet you can’t trust me enough to tell me. But I bet you told Kellan what happened.”
“Troy!” Kellan snaps, a warning for Troy to stop right there.
My body tenses. Bailey whimpers.
I continue stroking her. “Technically, we agreed to no labels for what’s going on between us,” I point out, careful to keep my tone from sounding accusatory, smoothing out the rough edges.
The lack of labels excuse is lame, but he’s right. Trust is not something that comes easily to me. Not anymore.
But maybe it’s time I told Troy the truth. To try on for size the ability to trust. Because Troy will always be wondering what happened to me. Will always be poking at the peeling wallpaper haphazardly covering my secrets.
The question is, can he handle what’s beneath the surface?
“You’re right,” he says. “We did agree to no labels. But I still think of you as my girlfriend, Jess.” His tone is steady, unbending. It’s my stomach that’s struggling to find stable ground. “And since when have I given you reason to believe you can’t trust me? I’m not the asshole you were involved with before you came to Maple Ridge.”
“Maybe not the same asshole, but you’re still acting like one.” The undertow of Kellan’s words is dangerously rough. “If you want, Jess, you can stay at my place.”
My gaze jumps between the two brothers. Both are angry at each other. Because of me.
I can’t let my own stupidity—my past actions—damage their relationship. They are family.
I’m not.
I’m expendable—as my parents proved.
“You don’t owe Troy an explanation.” Kellan’s tone is gentle, the Band-Aid to a wound that has trouble healing.
But he’s wrong. I do owe Troy something. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be where I am now. I wouldn’t have Bailey. I wouldn’t be going to therapy. I wouldn’t have a job where I don’t have to worry about flashbacks.
Kellan only knows I was wrongfully convicted and was in prison for five years. He doesn’t know the rest of it. And while I do plan to tell him the full story, it’s Troy who should hear it first.
I move my hand from Bailey. “I need to tell him, Kellan. And I need to tell him things about my past I haven’t told you yet. I will. But I need to tell Troy first.”
Kellan nods, no sign of judgment or hurt on his face. He already knew I hadn’t told him everything. I’d kept to myself what I had been falsely accused of.
He stands. “Let me know if you need anything, Jess.”
I smile, the way I imagine I would if Kellan had been my real brother. “Thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
I drop my gaze to my lap and wait until I hear the click of the front door. I fiddle with the hem of my shorts. I find little comfort in the action, but it does save me from seeing Troy’s reaction to what I must tell him. I breathe in through my nose, letting Troy’s scent of mountains and sunshine and hope settle inside me.
