Chapter 5 Rose #3
“Easton is my best friend. He’s not publicly out—the people close to him know, his coach, his teammates.
He’s supported and loved. But he’s a professional football player, and he just doesn’t want to be defined by it.
He wants to be known for his talent, not who he fucks.
But he’s not in the closet. Pearl knows he’s gay.
Trust me, she’s screamed at me enough about it over the years.
I have no idea why she told you we were together. ”
Logan is frowning. I feel his stare, and when I finally look up, his face is so unfairly, infuriatingly beautiful that I have to look away again. I sip my water and clear my throat.
I want to say I told you so. I want to say it so badly, especially after our fight last night.
But I don’t. I’ve never spent this much time around Logan or any of Pearl’s friends—never had the chance to be anything other than the half-sister with the Jezebel-housekeeper mother.
And frankly, I’m so tired of having to prove myself against Pearl’s version of events.
This happened all the time when we were kids.
Pearl’s mother existed mostly in postcard form, only taking her on lavish vacations a few times a year, so it was mostly just the three of us and my mom, who never once raised her voice at Pearl, not even when Pearl screamed that she smelled like cleaning products—she didn’t.
A toy Pearl didn’t want went in the trash before I could ask for it.
Something expensive broke and, somehow, always, it was my fault.
Dad believed me when I tried to defend myself—I could see it in his face—but it made no difference.
Pearl was so sensitive, he’d say. Even though I was the younger one, I had to hold it together.
Her nerves, he’d say. She can’t handle being in trouble.
But the other side of that meant that I could.
That because I didn’t cry, because I didn’t fall apart, I was the one who could afford to suffer.
I’m twenty-eight years old, Pearl is thirty-one. Nothing has changed, except that I’ve started to think there might be something seriously wrong with my sister.
Logan’s lips are still pressed together, working through whatever it is he needs to work through. “But why tell me you two were a thing? It gains her nothing.”
Sympathy! I want to scream. Obviously.
I think back to that conversation, so many years ago now.
Easton and Pearl were juniors. I was a freshman.
He was over at our house constantly, but it drove her crazy because he’d spend all his time playing video games with me.
My mom used to make him mountains of food, and he ate everything she cooked, which only made her adore him more.
He’d even eat the polvo and caracóis, and not many teenagers aside from me happily snacked on octopus and snails.
I try to explain, as best I can without crossing the line he’s already drawn.
“They’d been together for years, since middle school.
Young love, that kind of thing. In high school, they lost their virginity to each other.
” I pause. “And then I think that was when he knew. So, he told her the truth, how he was feeling about her, about himself. I was standing outside her room, they didn’t know I was there.
And she just lost it. She was heartbroken, but not even a little understanding.
And I get it. She loved him. She was really hurt.
But it wasn’t a choice he made. He did love her.
Just not like that. She said some pretty unforgivable things. ”
Logan has his elbows on the table, leaning in.
There’s something in his expression I can’t quite read.
His eyes move over my face, my hair, and drop briefly before coming back up to meet mine.
My entire body feels hot with discomfort at his perusal.
I know what I look like right now, and I know exactly what Logan thinks of me.
Easton wouldn’t mind him knowing this story—if anything, he’d probably assume Logan already did. It’s not like it’s a secret.
“She slammed the door in his face. He came down the hall and saw me standing there, and he just broke down.” I pause.
“Pearl and I weren’t close—she’d always hated me.
But Easton was my buddy. I brought him to the cottage, and my mom made him tea, and he talked for a long time.
We were close after that. He didn’t come around as much, obviously—he didn’t want to hurt Pearl.
But she turned on him so viciously that eventually he stopped giving a shit about her feelings. ”
Logan’s quiet, contemplative.
And then he says, “Maybe she saw you two together and assumed you had a relationship. That he lied to her, or that he also had feelings for you. She was so distraught about Easton when I met her, I think she must have misunderstood your relationship.”
I set my water glass down, careful not to slam it.
I pick it back up.
I take a sip.
I have eight more hours in a car with this man, and I will not spend them cleaning up the wreckage of what would happen if I opened my mouth right now. I smile at him instead. It doesn’t reach my eyes, and we both know it’s fake. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then closes it.
The rain has let up enough. Still coming down, but nothing like the deluge from before.
“Ready?” I ask tightly.
“Sure,” he says carefully. On the way out, he reaches past me to push open the door, close enough that I feel the warmth of his hand on my back, but it’s gone just as quickly, and then we’re outside and running for the car.