Chapter 24 #2
“I nearly hit Philip the other night.” Needing something to do with my hands, I fiddle with my beer bottle. “And I wouldn’t have felt guilty about it. It has always been so easy for me to hit someone. That rage is right there, on a hairpin trigger.”
Fable’s silence feels like it’s clawing its way inside my chest. She appears to be working through her response, but I don’t want her pity. I just need her to understand where I’m coming from.
I clear my throat and sit up straighter.
“I’ve found other ways to control my emotions—running, deep breathing, cold showers, talking to Maddox.
But the biggest thing that makes me feel in control is to keep a wall up so everyone stays safe.
I don’t want to get into a relationship with someone, fall in love and build a life together, only for that rage to bubble to the surface when I least expect it.
I saw what that did to Mom and Mia—the emotional and physical trauma they went through—and I can’t risk that. ”
Her eyes are glassy as she simply says, “You’re nothing like him, Theo.”
I wish I could believe her—ignore this nagging feeling and separate myself from him. But he made sure that was impossible when he wrote me the letter that still echoes in my mind daily.
It arrived at my grandparents’ house in a plain white envelope a few years after he’d been released from jail. There was no return address, but I recognized his handwriting immediately. I shoved the letter in the back of my closet and spent weeks debating whether I should open it or burn it.
But one dark day, my curiosity got the best of me.
With shaky hands, I tore into it, and bits and pieces etched themselves into my brain without my permission. I’m so proud of the man you are. You’ve always taken after me. From the moment you were born with my eyes, I knew we would be close. I bet you look just like me now.
All of it felt like a warning. A sentencing. A giant flashing red sign—he approves of you, which is the most damning information you could receive.
And I’ve been carrying that knowledge with me since.
“How do you know?” leaves my throat before I can stop it.
Her gaze is unwavering. “Because I know you,” she says, her voice steady.
I shake my head. “I’ve hurt people, Fabes. I’ve hurt you.”
A sad smile curves her mouth. “Why did you punch Graham in tenth grade?”
“Kylie was crying, and he was forcing her into his car. He wouldn’t stop.” I can still feel the satisfaction in my veins from when I gave him that black eye.
“And what about Porter?” she asks.
My fingers tighten around the bottle. “He called Mia a bitch in front of the football team.”
Now she looks slightly nervous as she asks, “And Blake?”
I hold her gaze, my mind slipping right back to that night. When I showed up at that New Year’s Eve party to find Fable’s swollen eyes and tearstained cheeks, all it took was one look from my sister to know whose fault it was.
“Because he cheated on you.”
“You didn’t know that at the time,” she points out softly.
“Knowing he hurt you was enough for me.”
A long moment passes, the movie a dull background noise compared to my pulse in my ears. Fable’s expression is full of tenderness and warmth—the kind that can only be found in the hazel depths of her eyes.
Finally, she says, “You’re right that you probably shouldn’t have hit them, but it sure sounds like you’ve learned better. You were a kid, going through hell, and your emotions were all over the place.” She sighs, shaking her head. “How long has it been since you actually fought with someone?”
I swallow thickly. “Since freshman year of college.”
She nods like she expected that answer. “I think you should forgive younger-Theo for the choices he made. Because the truth is, you’re protective and kind and trustworthy.
You stand up for the people who need help.
You’re a safe space, and I’ve never thought you weren’t.
” A few beats pass before she adds, “I’m not trying to convince you to be in a relationship, get married, have kids .
. . any of that. I just don’t want you to have to carry that guilt anymore. It’s gotta be heavy.”
I picture younger-Theo, with that dark cloud around his head and his heart. He was so lost and betrayed and confused. I wish I could give him the hug he desperately needed. That guilt was heavy then, and I don’t think it’s gotten any lighter, even after years of carrying it.
“Hey,” Fable says a few minutes later, mouth full of the last of her fries. “You didn’t actually punch Philip. That’s an improvement, see?”
I force a laugh, trying to bring us back to something lighter. “I did take his phone, turn it off, and hide it behind the dumpster, though.”
“You did not,” she gasps, eyes wide.
“Definitely did.”
“Personally, I think that shows remarkable self-control.” She lifts her bottle to mine, the glass clinking as they tap together. “Think he ever found it?”
“He probably just bought a new one.”
“It’s nice to imagine about him rooting around in the dumpster for it though,” she says, smiling fondly at the thought. Picking up her cup of ranch, she places it between us on the blanket. “We can share this, if you want.”
It’s a generous offer. Fable sharing her ranch is pretty much an invitation to be her best friend.
But then she reaches over me to steal a handful of my fries. “And we can share these.”
I burst out laughing, snagging her beer in retaliation. She giggles, stretching under my arm to grab the whole container of fries and hide it behind her back, and I’m helpless to stop her, too busy trying to keep the ranch from tipping over.
“Thank you,” she says sweetly, the picture of innocence as she dunks two fries in the ranch.