Chapter Twenty-One #3
Part of me wanted to book a flight back to Boston.
Another wanted to reach for him because his grief was so familiar.
Familiar, I quickly reminded myself, but not the same.
Even at my worst, those nights I couldn’t drag myself into bed, staring at the ceiling from the floor with tears streaming to my ears, begging the universe for one more minute with my dad so he could reassure me that I wasn’t fucking everything up for Phoebe, I never would’ve allowed someone to spend weeks at my side, in my bed, in every nook and cranny of my brain, without letting them first know who I was.
I’d clawed my way through hell while hoisting Phoebe above my head.
I did that. And Dex let himself drown rather than tell me the truth. He let me drown with him.
His dark eyes found mine, willing me to hear him out, as if a million moments didn’t exist between our meeting and now where he could have come clean.
I realized now that he’d tried in that Wyoming hotel room, all the talk about closure while letting me believe this trip was inspired by a broken heart.
Catalina wasn’t a heartbroken woman, but a woman destroyed, and we were in possession of the last words the man she loved would ever say to her.
All this time I’d spent wondering if Dex was in love with her or what kind of mistakes he’d made…
how fucking shallow. If only he’d been honest from the start—I would’ve done everything the same, only now it wouldn’t be warped like plastic in the sun.
With effort, I pushed myself to my feet. “Phoebe’s waiting,” I mumbled, heading for the hall.
“Violet, come on,” he said. I quickened my pace, sneakers squeaking. “You can’t walk away. We haven’t settled anything.”
“I’m trying to wrap my head around this. Around you lying to me this whole time.”
“A name is a name!” He caught my arm and I wheeled around to face him, fire burning its way up my neck. “It’s not who I am. You know who I am.”
I wrenched my arm out of his grasp. “I know what you want me to know. This whole time, I thought you were someone else and you were fine with that.”
“What do you want me to say? I’m sorry that when three strangers came searching for my dead brother, I didn’t tell them he overdosed in a fucking bar?”
Another gut punch. “No. God. I’m sorry. I just—I need to not look at you for, like, forty seconds.”
I kept walking. He kept up. “I tried so hard to stay away. I didn’t want anything to happen between us until you knew, but you’re so incredible and when I realized you wanted me…
Fuck, Vi, I couldn’t resist. I’m so sorry,” he said, a note of anguish rising in his tone.
“You said you want to know me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.
I’ll give you a long-form interview if that’s what you need. I’ll do it.”
He was saying the magic words for the Violet I was two weeks ago, three days ago, an hour ago. I’d wanted him to want me to know these things about him, not barter them in an attempt to smooth over the jagged edges of grief when I was already bleeding.
I pushed through the double doors into the waiting room where Phoebe was distracted by the tropical fish, one of the sticker books she’d gotten to decorate her Polaroids clutched in her hand. I slowed, far enough away so she couldn’t hear, and looked at Dex. “I can’t do this right now.”
His shoulders sank in an exhale. “Violet.”
“I’m so sorry about your brother.” My voice broke, a real wave of tears unleashing at the shine in his eyes.
“I get the grief. You know I do. I could’ve been there for you, if you let me.
But right now, I have nothing else for you.
I was honest with you. I trusted you. And you didn’t even tell me your name. ”
I wiped my eyes and left him standing at the doors. Phoebe glanced up as I approached, her face falling as she took me in, and even further when her eyes snapped over my shoulder to Dex.
“Is everything okay?”
“We have to talk,” I said briskly, heading for the exit. “Let’s go.”
The doors opened, the crisp sunshine violent.
Dirt cracked under our shoes as we made our way across the parking lot.
My head pounded, eyes burning, my heart so heavy I couldn’t remember what it felt like to fit comfortably inside my chest. Phoebe kept shooting glances at me and over her shoulder, waiting for one of us to explain.
I gave myself the walk to the car; a few more seconds of Phoebe’s happiness before we ripped the rug out from under her.
It wasn’t fair. And I hated myself for putting Phoebe in the position to lose someone else she cared about.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Dex had said.
I remembered leaving the hospital after my dad died, how I existed outside of my body, autopilot taking over. Now, I’d do anything for a semblance of separation from the ache. I felt every step, every breath, every agonizing thought that seemed to contradict the last.
Dex duped me into trusting him and I let him.
Was I supposed to cut him slack because he was grieving?
What he did was wrong and unfair and betrayed every bit of trust we’d cultivated, but fuck, where would I be if I didn’t have Phoebe and Arden when Dad died?
Would I be broken enough to do what he’d done?
Was it even a question when I’d been broken enough to take a cross-country road trip with a complete stranger?
But the lying was inexcusable, especially with Phoebe involved.
God. Phoebe.
She was going to be heartbroken. She was going to be angry.
Would she blame me? I couldn’t blame her if she did. I hadn’t been careful enough.
How fucking na?ve was I to believe I’d finally done something right?
Phoebe’s smiles and laughter egged me on and I bent, not caring if I broke as long as she was happy.
It never occurred to me that she might end up broken, too, but it should have.
I was the guardian. I was supposed to look at it from every angle before setting forth, and I failed. I let Phoebe down. Again.
I needed to let Dex explain for four hours straight so maybe this wouldn’t seem so irreparable. I needed to never see his face again.
His grief was uglier than mine; that didn’t mean I should leave.
This last thought was unwelcome logic in the sea of hurt and anger.
I didn’t want to think about this in a nuanced way.
Not with Phoebe looking at me with shining eyes as if she already knew this little universe we’d created together, the three of us, was gone.
Dex became integral so quickly. Phoebe opened up to him and he helped her through the insurmountable grief I’d never managed to scale.
My pathetic, optimistic soul had reached for him, twining with his as he slowly let me in, unaware that the foundation we were building on was a lie.
The floor may have fallen out from under me, but Phoebe was still standing, and I needed to be okay for her right now.
I needed to hold myself together long enough to map out our next move now that Dex wasn’t Dex, but he was still injured and heavily medicated.
I needed to explain this situation to Phoebe calmly and retain the ability to answer whatever questions she’d have.
I just needed another second. A breath. One last moment in a place where life didn’t feel so impossible.
I was tempted to let Dex explain it to Phoebe.
Maybe with the words coming out of his mouth, she’d see him as the villain and me as a fellow victim.
But I didn’t want to run from the hard things anymore.
I wanted to be honest. I needed to be someone she could trust, even when everything fell apart.
I needed to reassure her that it was her and me, us, forever. Dex couldn’t take that away.
I wiped a stray tear from my cheek and faced Phoebe when we reached the car.
She hugged the sticker book to her chest, chewing her bottom lip, waiting for me to explain.
She didn’t look to Dex for answers this time.
I took a breath, my eyes meeting his over Phoebe’s head as he trailed behind, and he looked every bit as broken as the bones beneath his cast. How did we get here?
I thought desperately. How do we go back?
I’d trusted him. With myself and my sister. His grief clouded his judgment and now here we were, over two thousand miles from home, strangers.