Chapter 19
LEIGH
Iwas sitting on the bed in my room at Jasper’s house, staring at my phone, when I realized I’d been holding it for twenty minutes without actually doing anything.
Just staring at Dex’s contact. Thinking about calling him. Not calling him.
It had been two days since the Mrs. Shulster conversation. Two days since we’d agreed to only see each other at wedding events. Two days of keeping my distance and hating every second of it.
And tomorrow was the band auditions. We’d be in the same room, surrounded by people, pretending we were nothing more than friendly acquaintances working on the same project.
I hated it.
But more than that, I was spiraling about what we were going to say when we finally told everyone.
How do you explain a relationship that’s supposed to end?
How do you introduce someone as your... what?
Temporary summer boyfriend? The guy you’re sleeping with until August?
The friend with benefits who, oh by the way, also happens to be your best friend?
God, it sounded terrible no matter how I framed it. Although maybe the last one was one to avoid.
I dropped the phone on the bed and lay back, staring at the ceiling.
This room was nice. Too nice. The whole house was too nice. Every time I walked through it, I was reminded that this was where my brothers grew up. This comfort, this stability, this home. They had this their whole lives.
While I had a one-bedroom apartment where Mom worked double shifts just to keep us afloat.
Where she slept on a pull-out so I could have the bedroom no matter how many times I tried to get her to swap.
Where noodles with butter weren’t actually my favorite meal but I learned at an early age that they were cheap and easy to make when she was too tired from pulling a double shift.
The unfairness of it still stung sometimes.
A knock on my door interrupted my spiraling thoughts.
“Leigh? You awake?”
Jasper.
I sat up. “Yeah. Come in.”
He opened the door slowly, like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome. It made something in my chest ache.
“Hey,” he said. “I noticed you’ve been pretty quiet the past few days. I wanted to check in. See if you’re okay.”
I opened my mouth to say I was fine. That everything was great. But looking at him standing there, genuinely concerned, something in me cracked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t really know if I’m okay or not.”
His expression softened. “Can I come in? Or if you’d rather talk somewhere else… or to your mom…”
“No, here is fine.” I patted the bed next to me. “Sit.”
He came in and sat, keeping a respectful distance, hands folded in his lap. Like he was afraid of overstepping.
We sat in silence for a moment. Not uncomfortable, exactly, but weighted.
“I’ve been avoiding you,” I said finally. “I know I have. And it’s not because... I mean, I’m not angry or anything. I just...”
“You wanted to give me and your mom space,” he finished quietly.
I looked at him, surprised. “How did you know?”
“Because Caroline told me that she thought it was something you’d do. Wanting us to have time alone. To figure things out without you in the way.” He turned to face me. “Leigh, you’re not in the way. You could never be in the way.”
“But I am though. Aren’t I?” The words came out more bitter than I intended. “This whole thing. You and Mom, you and your sons, all of it! It existed before I showed up. I’m the complication. The secret that got revealed. The person who doesn’t quite fit anywhere.”
“Is that really how you feel?”
“Sometimes.” I pulled my knees up to my chest. “I know everyone’s been nice.
Welcoming. But it’s weird, you know? To have this pre-made family and everyone just expects you to slot neatly into a hole that was never there in the first place.
Like I’m supposed to magically know where I belong just because we share DNA. ”
Jasper was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was gentle but firm.
“You’re right. There wasn’t a hole. There wasn’t a space carved out with your name on it, waiting for you to fill it.”
The words stung, even though they confirmed what I’d been thinking.
“But that’s not how family works,” he continued. “It’s not about finding where you fit. It’s about claiming the space you want. Making room. Shifting and adjusting and changing to accommodate the people you love.”
I looked at him.
“You think the boys had assigned roles growing up? That Trace was always the responsible one, Booker was always the steady one, Xander was always the driven one, Gage was always the lost one? No. They became those things through living. Through relating to each other. Through the family unit shifting and adapting as they grew.”
“But they had years…”
“And you’ll have years too. This isn’t about you fitting into something that already exists.
It’s about all of us changing to make space for you.
To include you. To become a new version of family that has you in it.
” He paused. “You’re not a complication, Leigh.
You’re an addition. A gift. One I didn’t know I was missing until you showed up. ”
My throat tightened. “I don’t know how to be a daughter to you.”
“I don’t know how to be a father to a twenty-seven-year-old woman I just met,” he said honestly. “But maybe that’s okay. Maybe we just start where we are and figure it out as we go.”
“What if I mess it up?”
“Then we’ll figure that out too.” He smiled. “Being a family isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being a unit. Supporting each other. Adjusting when things get hard. Making space for the messiness. And trust me, I’ve got enough experience for the both of us with making the mess.”
I wiped at my eyes, surprised to find tears there. “When did you get so wise?”
“Oh, I’m not wise. I’m just old and I’ve made enough mistakes to learn from them.
” He hesitated, then put a hand on my shoulder.
“Whatever’s got you wound up, and I suspect it’s more than just family dynamics, my advice is this: be happy.
However that looks. Whatever that means.
Claim the space you want, Leigh. Don’t wait for someone to give you permission.
The rest of us will shift because we want to make space for you. We want you.”
Something about those words hit me square in the chest.
Claim the space you want.
I’d been waiting for permission my whole life. Permission to belong. Permission to want things. Permission to take up space without apologizing for it.
What if I just... claimed it?
What if it really was that easy?
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
“Anytime.” He stood, then paused at the door. “And Leigh? You’re not in the way. You never were. I’m so very glad you’re here.”
After he left, I sat there for a long moment, his words echoing in my head.
Claim the space you want.
I looked at my phone again. At Dex’s contact.
I’d been so busy worrying about what everyone else would think, about keeping things secret, about not making waves that I hadn’t stopped to think about what I actually wanted.
And what I wanted was Dex.
I wanted to stop hiding. I wanted to tell the brothers. I wanted to stop pretending this was casual when it hadn’t been casual since the first night.
I wanted to claim the space I wanted in his life. In this family. In Willowbrook.
Even if it was just for the summer.
Even if it ended in August.
I deserved to have it while I could.
So I grabbed my keys and ran out of the house, straight to my car.
The drive to Dex’s house took fifteen minutes, but it felt like forever. My heart was pounding the entire way, as I rehearsed what I’d say, how I’d apologize.
I’m sorry for being scared. I’m sorry for hiding. I’m sorry for not being brave enough to claim what I want.
His truck was in the driveway. The house lights were on.
I parked, got out, walked to his door.
Knocked before I could second-guess myself.
He opened it after a few seconds, and the look on his face, surprise, hope, something that looked almost like relief, made my chest ache.
“Leigh?”
“I’m sorry,” I said immediately. “About the phone call. About pushing to keep this secret. About being scared.”
“You don’t have to…”
“Let me finish.” I stepped closer. “You were right. We should tell them. We need to tell them. And I’m sorry I wasn’t ready before, but I’m ready now. Or I’m trying to be ready. Or maybe I’m ready to try to figure out how to be ready.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “That was a lot of ‘ready.’“
“I’m nervous. I’m rambling.” I took a breath.
“What I’m trying to say is that I want to stop hiding.
I want to tell them. Together. We’ll figure out what to say and when to say it, but I don’t want to keep asking people to keep our secret.
I don’t want to only see you at wedding events.
I don’t want to pretend this doesn’t matter when it’s the thing that matters most right now. ”
He stared at me. “Leigh…”
“And I know it’s temporary. I know I’m leaving in August. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t count. It doesn’t mean it’s not real. And I want it to be real. I want people to know it’s real.”
“Come here,” he said, pulling me inside and closing the door behind me.
Then he kissed me.
Not gentle. Not tentative. But fierce and claiming and full of everything we’d been holding back for two days.
I kissed him back with equal intensity, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.
“I missed you,” I gasped against his mouth.
“Two days. It was two days and it felt like forever.”
“I know. I know.”
We made it to the couch. Barely. Hands everywhere, clothes disappearing, desperate and hungry and making up for lost time.
“Bedroom,” he managed between kisses.
“No. Here. Now. I need you now.”
So we stayed on the couch. Fast and intense and perfect. No slow buildup, no teasing. Just need and want and the relief of being together again.
After, we lay tangled together, both breathing hard, my head on his chest.