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“When you say you killed him?” I ask, trailing off. It may not be appropriate, but I feel like it’s something that needs to be said aloud because I think there’s more to it. It’s has to be more complicated than “I killed him.”
“You don’t need the details,” Jesse begins. “But when I saw Tate, I lost my mind. I needed to get him out of there. It had been over a year since he’d been hit, but that day felt different. We got to the back door, and with Tate outside, I prepared to fight. To give him a taste of his own medicine. But then he came at me, and he…” He shakes his head. “Something came over me. A strength I’d never felt before, and I grabbed ahold of him before throwing him down the concrete stairs.”
I gasp before covering my mouth. “That sounds like an accident. You—”
“It wasn’t,” he states plainly. “I knew what I was doing.”
Jesus. Surely that’s still self-defense.
“I stayed by his bedside, waiting for him to die. Hearing that flatline was like music. In one day, I witnessed two deaths and lost you. It’s safe to say, I was pretty fucked-up after that.”
“Jesse, he hurt you. All you did was save yourself. Save Tate.”
Jesse laughs again but it’s full of sadness. “I didn’tsaveTate.”
“Jesse—”
“After my dear ole ‘dad’ died, we were questioned, but it was ruled as a drunken fall. I was fostered by the local doctor's brother. I got to move to Seattle, while Tate went to another family in the area. One that still treated him like shit, only differently. They never hurt him, never made him do anything illegal, and apparently even sent him to a good school.” He huffs out a laugh. “But they didn’t care about his existence; it was all about the payment. They were just keeping up appearances.”
God, Tate.I feel for them both. And yet… I don’t know if I can trust him.
“I went back for him,” Jesse continues, and I sit straighter, reaching out to blindly take his hand, silently promising I’ll never let him go. “After I’d been gone about six months, I went back. Caught the train overnight, and then hitchhiked my way to Mossman. I thought I was being stealthy, that I was smart. But my foster dad knew, and he let me go, sensing it was something I needed to do.”
Tears well in my eyes as I try to reconcile the man Jesse’s speaking about with the teen from my school and the man that’s desperate to speak with me now. He was popular, he was loved, but…
“I found him throwing rocks across the lake out of town, something we used to do together to pass the time. I’m not sure what I expected to happen, but I didn’t expect what did. He came running toward me with so much anger, you’d think I was the one that hurt him, and right after his fist connected with my jaw, he told me to fuck off to my sweet life and never come back again. He didn’t need me. He didn’t want me. We were done.”
I gasp again, because that’s almost word for word what I said, but I was lying, and so was Tate. “Jesse,” I whisper, giving his hand another squeeze.
“I know. I see it now. I know he said those thingsforme. Just like I pushed you away. I get it. But it took me too long to realize. It took me right up until the week of your dad’s celebration, right around the time that I was looking for you and saw the panic in his eyes. But then he freaked out.”
“What?”
“I think he was just worried about what would happen if you knew the truth. If you told anyone. Because if the police looked too closely, who knows what they’d discover.”
Taking a deep breath, I decide to be honest. To see what he thinks about Tate getting in touch. “He stopped by the shop when we were in LA,” I say hesitantly. “Sara said he was quite panicked, asking to see me.”
“He what?” Jesse’s head rears back to look at me as his eyes widen.
“Have you spoken to him? Does he know that I know?”
“No. I haven’t said a word.Fuck.”
“Don’t panic. I’m sure it’s nothing. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Not now. We were talking about you. I don’t even know how you’re functioning.”
“Willow—”
“No, I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“I’m fine. I was surviving,” Jesse says, a little distractedly. “We were all just surviving. You included. I escaped into hockey, Tate escaped into drinking, and you eventually found your business. But deep down none of us were happy.”
I can see his mind ticking over, and I have no doubt he’s still worried about Tate. So to help, I try to distract him.
“And now?” I ask, a lightness suddenly filling my chest as I finally feel the answer myself—Icanlive without remembering, because I’m happy. Jesse makes me happy.
“Now, I’ve never been better. I’ve never felt more alive and it’s all thanks to you. I enjoy hockey—it was my dream and it became my life—but you, you bring me peace, and you gave me something I never thought I’d have, I never thought I wanted. You helped melove. Before you, I locked my emotions away. Nothing mattered. I put everything into hockey and pushed everything else out. I didn’t think I had the capacity to love. But then you happened and well…you know. And I’ll always be grateful for that, even if you walk away now that you know my truth, my dark past, my story.”
“Why would I walk away?” I ask seriously.Does he really think I would?
