Chapter 33
TARA
There’s one last person to face, to show I have matured this summer.
I find Troy at the gym, which isn’t surprising. My brother’s coping mechanisms are about as subtle as his overprotective streak. What is surprising is how long I stand in the doorway before saying anything. Before deciding that I’m finally doing this.
He’s lounging on the bench press, swiping through what is definitely a dating app.
“Please tell me that’s not Tinder,” I say from the doorway.
He doesn’t startle - Troy never startles - but his grin turns sheepish as he locks his phone. “Look who it is, campus’ latest delinquent. How many hours you got left?”
“Shut up.” I flop down beside him. “And we’re practically finished. We’ve got like 3 hours left. How was camp?”
“Two months of peace and quiet.” He ruffles my hair, and I swat his hand away. “Must’ve been heaven having campus to yourself.”
“Actually,” I say, aiming for lighthearted but feeling the weight of what I really came here to say, “I might have missed your annoying face. A little bit. Barely noticeable amount.”
“Barely noticeable?” He presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I write you thoughtful texts like ‘remember to eat’ and ‘don’t die’ and this is what I get?”
“Those texts were usually followed by an insult!”
We fall into easy laughter, but something’s been weighing on me since spring break. Since overhearing that conversation that changed everything.
“Hey, Troy?” I take a deep breath. My hands tighten into fists, then unclench. I’ve been thinking this through. I’ve waited long enough. I can do this. “Can I ask you something?”
The words land like a weight between us. Troy stills, his grin fading. For a second, he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. Then, slowly, he sits up straighter. “What’s wrong?”
“Why didn’t you tell me? About Dad? About what really happened when he left?”
The silence stretches between us. Troy’s shoulders tense and his jaw hardens.
“Who told you?”
“Nobody had to tell me. I heard you and Mom talking. During spring break.” I swallow hard. “About how you all decided I was too fragile to handle the truth.”
“Tar—”
“Don’t.” My voice shakes, but I don’t try to fix it.
“I am so—so—tired of everyone acting like I’m this fragile thing that needs protecting.
Like if I hear the wrong words, I’ll break.
” I swallow hard. “I’m not a kid anymore, Troy.
And I am done pretending I don’t see the cracks just because it makes things easier for everyone else. ”
He’s quiet for a long moment, then, “I wanted to tell you. Every time you got excited about one of his postcards, every time you made up stories about his amazing research adventures... I hated lying to you.”
“Then why did you?”
Troy exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. “Because I was scared.”
The words come out low, raw, like he’s only just realizing them himself.
“I didn’t want to take that from you,” he says.
“You were so young. So bright. You still believed in things, in people. Mom was falling apart, I was pissed at the world, but you? You still looked at postcards and saw adventures instead of excuses.” He pauses.
“I didn’t want to be the one to ruin that for you. ”
I swallow. That’s the worst part, isn’t it? He thought he was doing what was best.
“That wasn’t your choice to make,” I say, voice thick. “You wanted to protect me, but all you did was make me doubt myself.”
I shake my head. “You made me wonder if maybe you were right. If maybe I really was too weak to handle the truth. And do you have any idea how terrifying it is to not trust yourself?”
Troy sighs, rubbing his jaw. “No. It wasn’t my choice. But I was nine, Tar. Nine and suddenly responsible for making your lunches and walking you to school and trying to explain why Dad missed another weekend visit. And back then, I thought lying was the better option.”
“You shouldn’t have had to do that.”
“No shit.” He laughs, but it’s hollow. “You know what’s really messed up? Sometimes I’m still angry at him for coming back.”
“What?”
“Yeah.” He starts fidgeting with his phone again. “Like, who does that? Just walks back into our lives expecting everything to be normal? Asking about grades and college plans like he hadn’t missed years of our lives?”
“But you seemed fine with it. You went to all those family dinners—”
“Because you were so happy to have him back.” His voice softens. “You’d light up every time he asked about your science projects or brought you books from his travels. I couldn’t take that away from you.”
“There you go again, protecting me.”
“Force of habit.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You know that time you fell off your bike and scraped your knee bloody?”
“Which time?”
“The first time. You were like six. Dad was supposed to teach you but he had some conference, so I tried instead.”
“I remember. You gave me your favorite Batman band-aid.” We both grin at each other before he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I get it, Tar. I think I should have told you. You deserved to know. I just... I didn’t know how.”
Something in my chest cracks. Because he was just a kid too, wasn’t he? A kid trying to protect his little sister the only way he knew how.
“I get why you did it,” I say finally. “But I’m not that little girl anymore, Troy. I can handle hard truths. I can make my own choices.”
His eyes flick up, watching me carefully.
“Like Alfie?”
I meet his gaze head-on. “Like everything.”
For a second, I think he’s going to argue. But then he exhales, running a hand through his hair.
“You know,” he says, “it’s kinda funny.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”
“You’re standing here, all righteous and furious that I hid things from you. But you did the same damn thing, Tara.”
I freeze.
Troy shakes his head. “You hid Alfie. For months. And don’t even try to tell me it wasn’t because you were scared of what I’d say. I know it’s not the same. But maybe we’re not so different, not wanting to upset our sibling.”
My stomach plummets.
Because he’s right.
I open my mouth to argue, but the words don’t come.
I hid Alfie from Troy.
Because I was afraid of how he’d react. Afraid of what it might change between us.
And isn’t that exactly what Troy did with Dad?
Isn’t that exactly what I was so mad about?
Troy sighs. “Look, I get it. I’m not exactly subtle when it comes to my opinions.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“But you still should’ve told me,” he says, voice softer now. “Because we can’t do this anymore, Tar. We can’t keep protecting each other from things that hurt. That’s not our job. That’s never been our job.”
The words settle between us, heavy and true.
And I nod.
“Okay,” I say, and it’s the easiest, hardest promise I’ve ever made. “No more protecting each other.”
Troy holds out his hand, and I grip it tight.
Like a truce. Like a new beginning.
“Hey Troy?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. For everything. For the Batman band-aids and the school lunches and... just, all of it.”
He ruffles my hair, and for once I don’t swat his hand away. “That’s what big brothers are for, Tar.”
I laugh with him easily before getting up to leave.
“I’ll let you get back to your workout.”
Troy watches me carefully. “You really care about him, don’t you?”
I swallow, but there’s no point pretending anymore.
“Yeah.” I exhale slowly. “I really do.”
Troy nods, like he’s processing it in real-time.
“Okay.”
I blink. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I was never gonna be thrilled about my little sister dating my best friend. But... I get it now.”
A pause.
Then—he smirks.
“And I guess it helps that he’s, like, ridiculously into you.”
My face heats. “Troy.”
“What? The dude drew you. Like, multiple times. With shading and detail and shit. You don’t just do that for someone you’re casual about.”
“I guess not…”
“Nope.” Troy leans back against the bench, grinning like a little shit. “And honestly? It was kind of cute. Don’t tell him I said that.”
I peek between my fingers. “Wait—are you saying you approve?”
He snorts. “Don’t push it.”