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“Accept it. You were the golden child, and I was the fuckup. That’s all I ever was and all I’ll ever be. That’s why we did this in the first place!”
“No! You arenota fuckup.You… You’re an amazing person, and I’m so sorry.”
Her tears break free as she throws her arms around my neck and pulls tight.
“Kim…”
“I’m so, so sorry. I’ve wanted to tell you that every day for the last four years. We were so naïve. If we could do it again—”
“Don’t. We can’t do it again. It’s done, and it was ultimately my choice, not yours.”
She chokes on a sob and buries her face in my shirt. “I know, but it was the wrong one, and I let you make it. It’s killing me to watch you get hurt again and again after everything you’ve already been through. This isn’t right.”
I close my eyes, wanting to tell her it’s okay. I’m okay. But I’m not. I will never be okay.
“Please. Just let one person in,” she says, leaning back to search my face. “That’s all I’m asking. Let one person know the truth, see the real you. Love you like you deserve to be loved. She won’t tell anyone, I swear. It’s Iz.”
Exactly. It’s Iz.
Blinking through the sting, I draw on every bit of strength I have to pretend I’m not shattering inside. That I haven’t been since the day those cuffs tightened around my wrists.
“It’s not about that,” I say quietly. “If we love her, we can’t make her carry this too. Isabel canneverknow the truth.”
“Tristan, listen to me,” she pleads, gripping my arm. ”You already lost so much, and now your entire life is ruined. Just let one person not hate you for it. Let one person know who you really are. You don’t deserve this!”
Does she think this is helping? That I don’t know all that? I live with that weight every second of every damn day. I force a breath into my heavy lungs.
“No. It’s my life, my story, my decision, and the answer is no. No one can ever know what really happened.”
I balance on the armrest of the couch as I finish lacing my shoes. It’s supposed to be an unseasonably warm morning, so I decided to get my workout in early today. Bonus if I can disappear before Iz returns from the kitchen.
I straighten and balance both feet on the floor, just as a sound rustles behind me. Twisting back in alarm, I breathe a sigh of relief at Iz’s confused stare.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Fine, why?” I turn fully and lean on the armrest to face her.
“Um, the whole jumpy thing?”
She waves over me, and I force a tight smile.
“Yeah. It’s…” I don’t have an answer, so I’m grateful when she clears her throat.
“You want some coffee?” she asks.
I glance at her, surprised to see two mugs in her hands. Is this a joke?
“I…”
“Just take it,” she mumbles.
I do and stare into my rippling reflection. I’m so confused right now. Did she spit in it?
“I didn’t spit in it,” she says, and I can’t help a wry smile.
“No? How can I be sure?”
“Because that’s gross. Plus, you never wash your dishes, so I’d have to clean that out too.”
