Chapter 23
JACKSON
Imust have the word idiot written across my forehead because Chase has been watching me all morning. Not obviously, he's too smart for that, but I catch him looking at me during practice, during the post-skate cooldown, in the locker room. Studying me like he's solving a puzzle.
And the way he looked at me when I was watching Maya at breakfast this morning tells me he's figured it out.
We're driving home from practice when he makes his move.
"So," he says casually. "Want to grab lunch? Just us?"
My stomach drops. "Emma's making sandwiches at home."
"Emma won't care. Come on, there's this deli downtown I've been wanting to try."
He's not asking, he's telling.
"Yeah, okay."
The deli is twenty minutes away. Chase doesn't talk during the drive, just plays some playlist and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. The silence is loaded, heavy with whatever he's about to say, and my mind races through a dozen scenarios of how this conversation might go.
We order sandwiches when we get here and find a booth in the back. Chase waits until we're settled, food in front of us, before he drops the bomb.
"Dude, I know."
My heart stops. "Know what?"
"Don't play stupid. You're sleeping with Maya."
The sandwich turns to ash in my mouth. I set it down carefully, my appetite vanishing. "Chase—"
"I'm not an idiot, Jackson. I've been watching you two for weeks. The way you look at her, the way she looks at you when she thinks nobody's paying attention. This morning, when she was helping with Ethan, you looked at her like she hung the fucking moon."
"It's not—"
"Yes, it is. And honestly? I'm not surprised. You've been into her for years."
That catches me off guard. "What?"
"Come on. You think I didn't notice? What sealed it for me was that shopping trip for Ethan's gear. It was supposed to be Maya and me, but you volunteered to go instead. Said I should stay with Emma since she wasn't feeling well. You've had it bad for her forever."
I run my hand through my hair, the denial dying on my lips. There's no point pretending anymore, not when he's laid it out so clearly. "Yeah. I have."
"So you're together."
"Yeah."
"And Emma doesn't know."
"No."
Chase leans back, studying me with an expression I can't quite read. "How long?"
"It's complicated."
"I bet." He takes a bite of his sandwich and chews thoughtfully. "Does she feel the same way?"
"Yes."
"You sure? Because she's been through a lot, man. And if you're taking advantage—"
"I'm not." The words come out sharp, defensive. "She came to me. She needed… she needed to heal, to take control. And it started as something physical, but it became—" I stop. I can't finish.
"More," Chase supplies.
"Yeah. More."
We sit in silence for a minute, the deli noise fading into background static. I'm waiting for him to yell, to tell me I'm an idiot, to threaten to tell Emma. Instead, he just looks tired, like he's been carrying the weight of this knowledge for days and is relieved to finally put it down.
"I'm supportive," he says finally. "For the record. You're good for each other. She's healing, you're happier than I've seen you in years. So I'm supportive."
Relief floods through me so fast I feel lightheaded. "Really?"
"Really. But Jackson, you need to tell Emma, and soon."
"I know."
"Like, yesterday soon. Before she figures it out herself."
"I will. We're planning to—"
"Planning isn't doing." He leans forward, his expression serious. "Emma is scary. Pregnant Emma, who finds out you've been lying to her for months? Terrifying. Like, hide-the-sharp-objects terrifying."
"She's not that bad."
"She threw a plastic fork at my head last week because I ate the last pickle."
"You ate her pickle. That's different."
"My point is, hormones are making her volatile. And if she finds out from someone else, or walks in on you two, or just figures it out because you keep looking at Maya like she's the only person in the room—" He stops. "It'll be bad. Really bad."
He's right, I know he's right, and the guilt sitting in my chest grows heavier.
"We'll tell her. Soon."
"When?"
"I don't know. After the playoffs? When things calm down?"
"Playoffs are in April. It's January. That's three months of lying, Jackson."
"I know."
"And what if she finds out before then?"
"She won't."
"Are you sure about that? Because I figured it out. What makes you think Emma won't?"
I don't have an answer for that, just a sick feeling in my gut that he's absolutely right. Emma's always been perceptive, especially when it comes to me, and pregnancy hasn't dulled that instinct. If anything, it's made her more attuned to the people around her.
Chase sighs, rubbing his face like he's aged ten years in this conversation. "Look, I get it. Telling her is scary. She's your sister, and Maya's her best friend; this could blow up spectacularly. But the longer you wait, the worse it gets. Trust me on this."
"You won't say anything?"
"Hell no. If this goes tits up and Emma asks if I knew, I knew nothing. I'm Switzerland, completely neutral." He points his sandwich at me. "But you need to tell her, and you need to do it before she figures it out on her own."
"What if she hates us?"
"She won't hate you. She'll be pissed, yeah, probably won't talk to either of you for a few days. But she loves you both too much to stay mad." He pauses, taking another bite. "The lying, though, that's what'll hurt her. Not the relationship. The fact that you didn't trust her enough to tell her."
He's right, we've been lying to Emma for months, sneaking around in her own house, making her feel stupid for not noticing what's happening right under her nose.
"I'll talk to Maya," I say. "We'll figure out how to tell her."
"Good. Do it soon." Chase finishes his sandwich, crumpling up the wrapper with more force than necessary. "And for what it's worth? I'm happy for you. You deserve this; you've been miserable and alone for too long. Maya's good for you."
"Thanks."
"Just don't make me regret being supportive. If you hurt her—"
"I won't."
"Good. Because I like you, you’re basically my brother now. But I like Maya more. And if you fuck this up, I'm on her side."
I smile despite the anxiety churning in my gut. "Fair enough."
We finish lunch and head home. The whole drive, Chase's words echo in my head like a mantra I can't shake.
Tell her. Before she figures it out. Before this blows up.
He's right, we can't keep this secret much longer. Every day we wait is another day we risk Emma finding out the wrong way, another day we lie to someone we both love, another day we build this house of cards higher and higher until the inevitable collapse.
Back at the house, Emma's in the kitchen with Maya and Ethan. They're baking cookies, flour everywhere. Ethan’s covered in chocolate and looking proud of himself. Maya's laughing, helping Ethan press cookie cutters into dough while Emma attempts to help.
Maya catches my eye across the kitchen. Something in my expression must give away my mood because concern flickers across her face.
"You okay?" she mouths.
I nod, forcing a smile that feels hollow.
But I'm not okay. Because Chase figured it out, and if Chase figured it out, Emma's probably not far behind. Maybe she already suspects and is just waiting for confirmation, waiting for us to slip up badly enough that she can't ignore it anymore.
We need to tell her. I just don't know how.
Later that night, after Emma and Chase go to bed and the house settles into that particular quiet of everyone sleeping, Maya comes to the basement. She's wearing one of my t-shirts, hair piled on top of her head, looking worried in a way that makes my chest ache.
"What happened?" she asks, closing the door behind her.
"Chase knows."
Her eyes widen. "What?"
"He figured it out, called me out on it at lunch."
"Oh god. What did he say?"
"That he's supportive. But we need to tell Emma before she figures it out herself."
Maya sits on the edge of my bed, her shoulders slumping. "He's right."
"I know."
"So we tell her," Maya says, her voice soft but firm. "But… when?"
I take a breath. "I mentioned to Chase about maybe after the playoffs."
Maya blinks at me. "Jackson…"
"I know," I cut in quickly. "It’s ages away. Even Chase said that’s too far. But it’s all I have right now. I want to tell her, and I know you do too."
"I do," she admits, her fingers fidgeting with my pillow.
"But… are you ready to tell her now? To go upstairs, right this second, and say it?" I ask, my voice low, careful.
Maya shakes her head. "No…"
I reach out and pull her close, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She hesitates for a moment, then lets me guide her as she climbs onto the bed beside me, curling against my chest. I wrap my arms around her, breathing her in.
For a moment, I just hold her, memorizing the weight of her against me, the way she fits perfectly in my arms.
"What if this ruins everything?" she whispers.
"It won't."
"You don't know that."
"No. But I know Emma loves us, and once the anger passes, she'll see that we're good together, that we're happy."
"And if she doesn't?"
"Then we deal with it. Together."