Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jessie
I’m deep into binge-watching my comfort show.
After crying myself to sleep late last night, I woke up with no motivation to do anything but wallow in self-pity.
I’m giving myself the weekend to feel however I want to feel.
After tomorrow, I’m pulling myself together and moving forward with no regrets.
For now, comfy pajamas, reruns of my favorite show, and ice cream are my therapy. And crying. Tons of crying. My eyes feel like they’re swollen from a crazy case of allergies.
I’m proud of myself though. I reached for my phone so many times last night to call him, but I was able to talk myself out of it each time.
Because no matter how bad my heart hurts now, I know it will only be ten times worse if I continue down this path with no signs of him owning up to his mistakes.
At the end of the day, this is his fault. It was his decision to keep some ridiculous secret like we were teenagers.
An aggressive pounding at my door makes me nearly jump off my couch. Its loud and desperate sound has my heart racing, and I wonder if something terrible has happened. I left my phone in my bedroom to keep away the temptation to text him, but now I’m panicking.
I peek through the peephole. All I see is a man with his hands resting on my doorframe, head hung low. But I’d recognize him at any angle.
I can tell by his demeanor that something is wrong.
Oh my God. What if something is wrong with Eli?
The chain of my lock rattles as I slide it free and turn the knob. I tug the heavy door open. His head lifts, and I see pain in his eyes. His hair is disheveled—evidence that he’s been pulling at it.
I swallow down my fear and the instant pain of regret that stabs me right in the gut as I realize I walked away from this man. This man who, no matter how hard I try, I will never erase from my heart.
“Jessie,” his deep voice states, sounding tired.
My leg rises to take a step closer to him, but I have to remind myself to stay back. “Walker,” I whisper. “What’s wrong?”
“I quit.” He lets out a long breath.
It feels like my brain is short-circuiting. I stare at him wordlessly, trying to understand what he’s saying. He can’t mean …
“Can I come in?” he asks.
I nod my head and open my door. He walks past me and moves straight to my family room, where he begins to pace back and forth, back to pulling at his hair.
My feet take slow steps toward him, stopping at the edge of the room.
“You quit?” I ask, wondering if I imagined hearing those words.
He stops moving and stands still a couple of feet from me. My arms just want to take him in and comfort him, but I realize I still need to protect myself.
“I told them.” His eyes turn down. “You were right. I should’ve told them about Eli from the beginning.”
I watch him intently as he pulls at the back of his neck, clearly struggling to find the right words.
“They …” His head shakes back and forth. “They weren’t thrilled. More concerned about my hours and how I would maintain such a grueling schedule if Eli’s mother wasn’t present. It was pretty clear to me they had no interest in supporting me through the process. So, I fucking quit.”
I’m not exactly surprised. Those firms are ruthless. It’s cut or be cut. Nothing about them screams, We’re here to help out our own, no matter what.
He laughs nervously to himself. “I’ll take that look on your face to mean you aren’t exactly shocked.”
I open my mouth, then close it, trying to find the right thing to say. “I’m sorry. They really should support their employees. It’s sad they can’t see the amazing thing that you are doing for your daughter.”
“Yeah, well, we’re all a bunch of assholes. Deep down, I knew that.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You’re including yourself in that?”
“How can I not? I’ve been one of them for over a decade. I’m no better than any of them.”
His inner distress is not something that I ever wanted to see, even with all the conflicting emotions I feel toward him at the moment. His eyes are glossy, like he’s been crying. I wonder if he can see the sadness in mine.
I reach for his hand and take it into mine. “You know you’re different from them. You always were and always will be.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t deserve to get off the hook like that.”
“I don’t really care what you think you deserve,” I bite back. “And I’m proud of you for standing up to them. Do you regret it?”
A muscle quivers in his jaw. “No, I don’t. I’m angry. So damn angry. At myself for being a sellout for so long, at them for proving me wrong, at the world for being so unfair.”
Yeah, join the club. Anger still simmers in my bones, but the person I should be directing it to is standing in front of me, looking like he just lost a puppy.
His hand drops from mine, and then he takes a step closer and places it on my cheek. My eyes close of their own accord as I let the heat of his skin soothe the loneliness I’ve felt the last two days.
“You’ve been crying,” he whispers in a troubled voice.
I open my eyes and look up at him and nod my head. There’s no use denying it. I’m a wreck without him. It’s like all the colors drained out of my world the night I walked away from him, leaving nothing but the quiet ache of what used to be.
A glazed look of despair spreads across his face. “There are so many things I’d do differently in my life … but I can’t find myself to regret them because they brought me Eli. But you … if only I could have protected you better.”
I shudder inwardly. Another cryptic message that does nothing but keep me out in the rain.
“Walker …”
“I know. I know I owe you the truth. I’ve owed it to you for years.”
My breath catches in my lungs. Is he going to tell me? Will we finally be able to move forward after all? Hope floats in my chest until I see just how tortured he looks.
“It can’t be that bad, Walker. Whatever it is, just tell me.”
He takes my hand and walks us over to my couch. I follow his lead and take a seat next to him. With my hand still in his, he rubs familiar circles over my skin.
“Before I tell you this, I just need you to know one thing.” He takes a deep, shaky breath and releases it.
I start to wonder if this is something bigger than I could possibly imagine. He looks like he might be sick.
He continues, “I’ve been in love with you before I really think I knew what love was. Before we were both old enough to comprehend the depths of love, I loved you. And now, I’m more in love with you than I thought possible.”
The man I’m hopelessly in love with just admitted his love for me. I should be soaring through the sky with a joy that is unmatched. But his admission feels like it’s etched with goodbye.
“The night you came to me in my bedroom”—his voice is distant, like he’s brought back to that point in time—“I had just overheard your parents arguing in our garage.”
My body stiffens. My parents. This is about my family. I can sense that my world is about to crash. I know it’s coming. I feel it.
His eyes hold mine. He doesn’t want to continue. This is it, and he’s beginning to second-guess whether or not he should tell me. But now I need to know.
“Just say it,” I whisper and clutch his hand.
“They were arguing because your dad wanted to tell you the truth. Something your mom thought was best to keep from you.” He takes one final drag of a breath. “Your dad … he’s not your biological father.”
My body is assaulted in a raw and primitive moment of grief so powerful that it threatens to destroy me. Dad. My dad. My rock. Not my father. The truth doesn’t just break me; it hollows me out from the inside, leaving nothing but the echo of everything I thought I knew.
I should scream, cry, throw something. I should yell at Walker and beg him to take it back. But I’m too shook to do anything but sit in silence while my brain does a flashback of every single moment of my life, wondering what else was a lie. Was anything in my life real?
All the years I’ve spent thinking my dad was the only one who got me, the only one in my family who I connected with. And he isn’t even my father.
Walker leans his head forward. “Jessie”—his voice cracks—“I’m so sorry. I know what your dad means to you. I never wanted to be the one to have to tell you this.”
I can’t even look at him. I pull my hand from his and rub my arms up and down, trying to soothe the shivers that have taken over.
Walker says my name again, quieter this time. “Jessie …”
I shake my head, my throat too tight to speak. My mind is swirling with memories—Dad teaching me how to drive, the way he answers the phone for me, his gentle hugs, our jokes. None of it makes sense anymore. Every memory feels like a lie, wrapped in something that used to feel safe.
The air feels too hot. I stand up from the couch and begin to wave my hands in front of my face as I try to regain some kind of composure, but the gesture is futile.
“I need to …” My voice breaks. I swallow hard, forcing the words out. “I need to go home.”
He rises from the couch and stands in front of me. “Jessie, maybe you should wait until …”
“I have to!” I shout, my tone sharp but trembling underneath. “I can’t sit here and pretend I can make any sense of this. I need answers. And I need them now.”
He nods. “You shouldn’t drive right now. Let me take you.”
“No.” I wrap my arms around myself, taking a shaky step back. “You’ve done enough.”
That comes out harsher than I meant, but I can’t take it back. I’m unraveling, and he’s standing there, watching me fall apart with those eyes that say he’d fix it all if he could. But he can’t. No one can.
“I know you were just trying to help,” I whisper after a long pause. “But I can’t talk to you right now. I need to talk to them. I need to hear it from my family.”
He opens his mouth to protest again, but I shake my head, cutting him off.
“Please, Walker. Just … go.”
The plea in my voice seems to stop him cold. He takes a step back and nods his head.
I turn away as he walks by me, desperate to hide the tears that begin to fall down my cheeks. It’s not until I hear the door click shut that I fall to the ground and let out a gut-wrenching sob. My hand comes up to my chest as I try to breathe through the pain and tears.
It’s not until my body lets out every bit of tears it had that I can stand up. I grab my purse on wobbly legs. Every breath feels wrong. All I know is I have to get home and talk to my parents.