Chapter 19
Josephine
Greedy and Hunter are graciously clearing the table after Friday night family dinner. Kendrick cooked, and we all did our best to act like it wasn’t intensely awkward to dine with rival quarterbacks the night before they face off at the biggest game of the season.
Hunter offered to stay one more night, and I gladly accepted. It’s not that I don’t feel safe in the house with the guys. If anything, I feel like we’re in a better place now than we’ve ever been.
I’m okay. I’m more than okay when I’m with them.
But her presence brings with it an extra softness.
I don’t have to navigate uncharted territory or try to figure out where things stand with Hunter.
I can just be. There’s serenity in the type of friendship that requires no pretense or preamble.
We exist on the same wavelength. Our connection, though new, is already soul deep.
It goes so far beyond words or action. I feel most like myself—like my best self—when I have her by my side.
It also helps that she and I are rooming together. If she weren’t here, Kylian would surely lure me to the Nest and lock the door forever.
Decker’s in a particularly grumpy mood tonight, which doesn’t bode well for what I’m planning to share.
But we’re all here.
I don’t want to have to tell this story more than once.
If I’m going to tell them—if I’m going to commit to being my most authentic self with them—they need to know what they’re getting into. Even if it wrecks me to stir up old memories, I need to share my truth.
I want Hunter to know.
I trust Greedy enough.
I need to give Kylian the facts.
I crave Locke’s comfort.
I hope Kendrick doesn’t overreact.
I pray Decker understands.
Clearing my throat, I rise from my seat, wincing when the chair legs scrape against the deck. “I was hoping… I was hoping I could talk to you guys. All of you. About what happened.”
I scan the group, finding all eyes on me.
“Joey…” Hunter shuffles close and takes my hand. “We don’t need to rehash it. Greedy will take care of it.” She looks to her stepbrother, who’s nodding in agreement over by the sliding glass door.
My heart leaps into my throat. I want to take the out, but I can’t. I have to see this through. “No, I don’t mean about last weekend. I want to tell you about… before. About why I hate storms. Why being taken was so… triggering. About why I panic.”
Wringing my hands, I search for Kylian in the small crowd, desperate to connect with him now in case he shuts down before it’s all over.
I’ve promised myself that I’ll give him time, space, distance…
whatever he needs to process all this. Even if it hurts me.
Even if it affects our relationship. Even if it all ends because of this. He deserves that much.
And I hope, more than anything, that he understands that it was real.
What we shared. How he made me feel.
If everything changes tonight, I want him to know that he was worth it. And that I would do it all again if given the chance. He’s been my safe place. He’s been so much more than I ever imagined I could have with another person.
Next, I shift my focus to Locke, silently pleading with him to not be upset with me. I should have opened up to him weeks ago. I undoubtedly should have told him before we established our relationship.
I needed to be the new me for just a bit longer before I brought the past I can’t escape into my present. I wanted to bask in his affection and soak up every moment where I was just the Hot Girl he met on the first morning of Logic class.
When I find Kendrick, I don’t shrink under the intensity of his stare. He’s going to be hurt. He’ll probably feel duped. His reaction will be fiery and instant, but I have to believe he’ll forgive me for not telling them sooner.
Finally, I turn to Decker and will myself to stand tall and keep my head held high.
“You thought I was hiding something.” My voice is hoarse with emotion. “And you were right. I was.”
Heavy silence settles around us. Hunter sits back down in her seat, and Kendrick leans forward, steepling his fingers against his forehead.
“My name wasn’t always Josephine Meyer,” I admit. “It used to be Jolene Neuer.”
I survey the faces around the table, eager to gauge each reaction, though I don’t allow myself to actually meet anyone’s gaze.
There’s a moment where the world around me is paused—suspended as the bits and pieces start to click.
Processing, please wait. I crack my knuckles and fight back the nausea swirling in my stomach.
For now, I force myself to just exist in this space where the first of many secrets is out, but no one has responded or reacted just yet.
It’s Decker who speaks first. But he’s not looking at me.
“You knew.”
He’s standing, brooding like he does, dominating with his arms spread wide at the head of the table. His scowl is one of pain and disdain. And most surprisingly, betrayal.
I follow his gaze across the table to Kylian.
“You knew?” I ask, my heart lurching in panic. Is my secret not even a secret after all?
Black and white. Cut and dry. His response should be nothing more than a simple, single-word answer.
I know I’m in trouble when Kylian peers up at me through his glasses, his cerulean eyes a mess of emotion.
He holds eye contact in a way that makes me want to physically recoil.
It’s not just that he’s making a concerted effort to get the delivery right.
It’s the realization that he won’t need time to process or come to terms with what I thought I was revealing tonight.
None of what I’m about to say is news to him.
Shaking his head, he swallows thickly and whispers, “Those files should have been redacted, Jo. You were a minor. They shouldn’t have been so easy for me to find… why weren’t they redacted?”
It’s a question I asked so many times. But in Ohio, there’s no law that requires a victim’s identity to be protected.
Minor or not. “Redaction is a courtesy” is what I was told every time I asked, and the members of the Blakely Ohio Police Department were never particularly courteous where I was concerned.
Rage surges through me as the truth comes barreling to the forefront of my mind. Kylian knew. I didn’t disclose the information… but he knew.
“And if my name had been redacted from the case files?” I spit out with a vitriol I’ve never used with Kylian. “You wouldn’t have been able to figure it out? You wouldn’t have kept digging? Doing his bidding”—I throw an arm out toward Decker—“until you found something worth having on me?”
If it was quiet before, it’s eerily silent now.
I had no intention of getting distracted from what I intended to tell them, but it’s too much.
“I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I did before I realized it wasn’t my business and stopped digging.”
Angry, indignant tears well in my eyes. I pull in a deep breath, willing them not to fall.
How far did he get?
How much did he see?
This is the exact opposite of how I wanted this confession to go down.
They’re awful truths. Wretched secrets. But they’re my secrets. My story to tell. I went to excruciating efforts to leave the past in the past. I would have left it there forever if I could guarantee it would keep.
But with the way my conversion disorder has been flaring, I needed them to know. I wanted them to know.
Now all I want is to dig a hole in the sand, crawl inside, and stay there forever.
“You’ve known all along.” The accusation catches in my throat.
The night they brought me here. The morning after, when he came out to talk to me at the end of the dock.
He knew even then.
Kylian doesn’t deny it. He holds my gaze, his throat bobbing with a heavy swallow.
The reality of just how thin my veil of discretion really is slams into me with the force of four football players.
I don’t realize I’m crying until I open my mouth, ready to tear into him, and taste the tears that drip onto my tongue. A salty reminder of all that I was and all that I’ll never be.
“Baby,” Kylian murmurs, tracking the movement of my tongue. He pushes to stand and storms around the table. As he approaches, he grasps my upper arms and spins me to face him, then wraps me in an embrace.
Though the last time he held me wasn’t more than a couple of hours ago, his touch suddenly feels foreign. Stiff and distant, despite the dozen touch points between our bodies.
“Baby,” he whispers again in what I’m sure he thinks is reassurance. “You’re okay. We’re okay. This changes nothing.”
“This changes everything,” I counter, clinging to him as I sort through my feelings about his knowledge of such deeply personal information—information I wasn’t ready for anyone to know until now.
“Jo. Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I obey. The tension melts away a little more with each second as I search Kylian’s face.
He knew. He fucking knew.
And yet…
He’s never treated me like I’m damaged or broken.
He’s never pushed me to reveal more than I was willing to share.
He knew, but he kept my secret safe, as is becoming more apparent by Decker’s outraged reaction.
Dropping my forehead to his chest, I press into his hold and take a steadying breath. When I finally look up at him, I see the truth he’s already declared: I’m okay. We’re okay.
With a slight nod, I take a step back.
Just like I knew he would, he gives me space to retreat as I temper my anguish, wipe my tears, and assess the rest of the group.
Naturally, Decker inserts himself then and presses the issue.
“You knew something about her, something obviously important, and you said nothing?”
The accusation is sharp, dripping with venom. I don’t know what Decker’s more upset about: not being in control of the situation, or Kylian breaking his trust on my behalf.
Kylian side-eyes Decker, takes a deep breath, and shrugs. “Wasn’t my story to tell, Cap.”
As I look from one person to another around the table, I realize Decker isn’t the only one in the dark. It’s clear that Kylian did not share details about who I was or what I’ve endured with any of them.
That’s further confirmed when Locke interjects. “Uh, someone want to fill us in? What’s there to tell?”