Chapter 16 Breaking Point
brEAKING POINT
NATE
Ollie steps out of the dressing room like he’s been waiting all damn year for the chance to show off.
“Gentlemen, prepare yourselves,” he announces, arms spread, doing a spin that makes the overhead lights catch on the navy of his suit.
“I believe I've just redefined what it means to look devastatingly handsome in formal wear.”
And the stupid thing is—he’s not wrong.
The navy suit fits him perfectly. Even makes him look older, like he’s already stepped into the life he’s meant for. Not the kid who hid behind jokes so people wouldn’t look too closely.
Jay lets out a low whistle. “Jesus Christ, Ollie. Save some confidence for the rest of us mortals.”
“I would,” Ollie says, straightening his tie, “but then what would be the point of being me?”
Nick’s in the other room getting fitted. Jake’s half-present, half somewhere behind that fucking phone of his. Jay’s wrestling a tie like it disrespected his ancestors.
For a second—just a second—it feels like old times. Before everything got complicated. Before every choice felt like stepping onto a minefield.
“Jake,” Ollie says, reading everyone’s minds at once, “get off your phone and try on your suit. We don’t have all day.”
Jake startles, blinking back into the room.
“I will, in a minute.”
Jay holds up his tie like it’s a venomous snake. “How the fuck do you even do this? I don’t think I’ve ever owned a shirt with buttons, let alone one of these."
The room erupts, even Nick laughs through the dressing-room door. The sound lands somewhere deep in my chest, loosening something I didn’t realize was wound that tight.
It’s a moment I want to freeze-frame and hold in my hands.
“Alright, give me my suit,” Jake finally says, setting his phone down on the glass table.
Ollie hands him the suit, and Jake finally pushes off the table to head toward the change rooms. He leaves his phone behind without thinking—face-up, screen dark, like it’s catching its breath.
Then it buzzes.
Once.
Twice.
A third time, harder, like it’s demanding attention.
I shouldn’t look.
I tell myself that.
But the sound is sharp enough to slice the room in half, and it lodges deep in me—familiar in the worst way.
Warning. Pay attention.
I try to ignore it. I really do. But something about the rhythm of those alerts worms under my skin, the way certain sounds used to mean duck, hide, don’t breathe.
My eyes drop on instinct.
Email previews flash across the screen.
“You requested documents.”
“LLC paperwork.”
“Urgent! To be signed before EOD”
And just like that, my stomach turns to ice.
“[Confidential] South Eden acquisitions.”
It’s Jay’s old neighborhood. The same neighborhood being emptied house by house, like someone decided it didn’t deserve to exist anymore. And just like that, I do the one thing I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t do.
I reach for his phone and swipe to unlock it.
The passcode is predictable because he’s never changed it.
Mom’s birthday.
The screen unlocks with a soft click that feels too loud in my ears, then the flood hits.
Contracts.
Electronic signatures.
Property transfers filed under fake-sounding LLCs—mapped onto streets I grew up driving through.
Houses that belonged to people with real lives, real histories.
And Jake’s name is stamped on half of it.
My stomach lurches as heat crawls up my throat. My hands won’t stay fucking still.
“Nate?” Ollie’s voice breaks through, soft but startled. “You good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I set the phone down fast—too fast.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
Lie.
Huge lie.
The kind you swallow even as it burns on the way down.
The drive home is quiet and usually I can handle quiet. But not when I see Jake still scrolling through his phone and frantically typing away every couple of minutes. I keep glancing at him, trying to see the kid he was and trying not to see the man Scott is turning him into.
By the time we pull into the driveway, my pulse is a hammer beneath my skin. When we’re inside, I finally say something.
“Jake.”
He turns. “What?”
“I’m going to ask you one last time.” My voice sounds like someone else. Older, tired. “What’s Scott got you doing?”
He freezes and a flicker of something—fear, guilt, recognition—crosses his face.
“What?” He says it too fast, too sharp.
“Please,” my throat feels raw. “Don’t lie to me. I saw the emails on your phone. What is he having you do?”
“You went through my fucking phone?”
“Answer the question.”
“Wow. This is a new low, even for you.”
There it is again—that fear underneath the anger. The kind that makes your voice shake even when you try to hide it.
“You do realise what you’re doing is illegal right?” I say quietly. “You have to know that.”
“You don’t know shit—”
“Then explain it to me.” My voice cracks around the edges. “Help me understand why your name is on those documents tied to South Eden.”
He flinches, barely but I see it and everything I’ve been holding back snaps loose.
“Do you know what happened to Jay’s mom?” My voice rises, and I hate it. I hate how much I sound like Scott. “They burnt her house down. And now she’s sleeping in a fucking shelter while you—while you’re helping him do this below the line shit to other families.”
Jake’s face goes still.
“Have you even gone down there?” I ask. “Have you seen what your signature on those documents actually means? Or are you just sitting behind screens, pretending Scott is some misunderstood businessman?”
“I…” He swallows. Hard.
“You haven’t.”
Silence stretches out between us.
“Stop acting like you know anything.” He finally says.
“You know, someone once told me words were good. Promises were great. Actions were better.”
The silence stretches to the point where you could probably hear a pin drop.
“You were right about what you said to me at the hospital,” I say softly. “About taking responsibility. About owning the things I broke.”
Jake’s eyes flick up to mine.
“But the difference between us? I’m actually doing it.”
He looks away like the truth is too bright to stare at.
“I don’t know if you can say the same.”
His jaw trembles.
“Fuck. You.” It’s whispered, like it hurts him to say it.
And God help me—it hurts to hear it.
“Jake…” I step closer. My voice is gentle. “I know you think he’s giving you something you’ve been missing your whole life. But you’re wrong. And he’ll ruin you before he ever saves you.”
His eyes finally meet mine. And for a split second, I see the boy he used to be. The kid who’d fall asleep on my shoulder during storms. The one I used to hide in closets with so Scott wouldn’t find us and I’d tell him to count to infinity with me.
“You were the most important thing to me,” I say, voice shaking. “I know I never said it right. I know I never said it enough. But I would burn this whole fucking town down before I let anything happen to you.”
His face cracks—barely—but it does.
“I just can’t save you,” I whisper, “if you don’t want to be saved.”
The house around us feels hollow, like a memory of something that was once home. We stand there, two brothers caught in the crossfire of the same man, waiting for something to break.
And knowing, deep down, that something already has.