Chapter 22 #2
"She was so convinced I'd been cheating, she couldn't see anything else.
Even after I told her the truth, she didn't believe me.
.. or maybe she just didn't want to. I don't think she ever understood I had a problem.
So, I left and got help. This was years ago, but I still go to my support group every day at five in the afternoon.
It's virtual, but I'm terrified to quit.
I don't know what would happen if I did. "
"That's why you kept disappearing when we were shooting, and why you sometimes ran late," I realize, pieces clicking into place.
"Yeah."
"Did Sam know?"
He hesitates, his expression unreadable. "Of course. My meetings were one of the things she had trouble with. I don't have a lot of free time."
I wince. "Sorry for bringing her up. I won't anymore."
I pick up my brush and dip it into the paint, wiping the excess off against the rim of the can. But I can't shake the thought. "Does Gary know?"
Vince nods. "He does."
The ugly feeling of jealousy creeps in as I drag my brush against the wall. "Well, for being your best friend, it's kind of weird that I was the last to know the most important thing about you."
"That's not the most important thing about me," Vince says, looking directly at me for the first time since he started opening up.
His words, combined with the weight of his gaze, catch me off guard. My face warms with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," I say quickly.
"I didn't tell you because I didn't think you'd like me as much if you knew.
" His voice dropped, the words barely audible above the soft music.
"Andy. I didn't want to lose your friendship.
" He paused, his gaze unwavering, searching my face.
"Same reason, I take it, you kept some things from me too. "
I dip my brush back into the olive green paint, trying to process his honesty. "I don't think any less of you for any of that, Vince. Just so you know."
He laughs, but the sound carries a skeptical edge. "Well, now I'm the one who doesn't believe you."
"My mental health is the real reason I left Fairbanks... not the yoga studio."
Vince doesn't interrupt, so I keep going. "I went through a really bad depression a few years ago. I ended up checking myself into a clinic when it got bad. My environment wasn't helping, you know? But I thought moving out here would give me a fresh start."
I rest my paintbrush on the can and look at him. The irony of both of us hiding parts of ourselves that were so similar isn't lost on me.
Vince smiles at me in that way that sends sparks through my chest. I quickly turn my gaze back to the wall and keep talking.
"I'm doing a lot better now. Therapy helped a ton, but honestly, just being in a better environment has made sticking to healthy habits easier. Last year, around this time, I got snowed in for five days straight without electricity." I laugh. "And that wasn't even the first time."
Vince's carefully constructed exterior—the confidence, the charm, the effortless grace—cracks open just enough to reveal the same struggles I know too well. We're both just trying to keep it together, each day at a time.
His fingers find my hair again, threading through the strands with a tenderness that makes my breath catch. He tucks a stray piece behind my ear, his knuckles grazing my cheekbone.
Before, his touches carried the weight of playing a friendly game. Now, with Sam gone, each contact feels deliberate, searching. He's finding excuses—brushing past me in the narrow space, lingering too long when handing me something, and now this.
It's driving me to the edge, my pulse thrumming beneath my skin. This isn't the gentle flutter of possibility; it's the dizzying spiral of confusion.
He knows how I feel. Ted made sure of that. So what game is he playing?
My hand moves, slow but certain, closing over his before his fingers can wander further. His skin is warm, his pulse beating against my palm. For a heartbeat, we stay like that. My hand holds his, suspended in the olive-painted silence, before I gently guide his hand away.
He looks at me, confusion clouding his features, but I squeeze his hand with a smile before releasing it and turning back to the wall. This feels too close, too intense. If I don't stop him now, I'm not sure I can keep my feelings in check.
"So, since you already made me tell you two secrets to your one, here's another," I say, desperately steering the conversation into safer waters. "My dad disowned me for being gay when I came out at sixteen. I haven't spoken to him since, and I hate his guts."
Vince blinks, caught off guard, but I don't stop there. "Oh, and when I was sixteen, I also stole my boyfriend Brian's Adderall so I could stay up all weekend and binge-read The Lord of the Rings series without stopping."
Vince lets out a wholehearted laugh, his face lighting up with relief. He grabs his paintbrush and climbs back up the ladder, grinning. "I let my sister's cat escape the house after a fight over Legos. He came back two months later, but she's still mad at me."
I laugh, dipping my brush back into the paint. "I had a huge crush on my fifth-grade teacher, Mr. Cohen, and would purposely flunk his tests just to spend time with him after school."
"I crashed my dad's truck into a ditch when I was fifteen, lied about it, and got the shit kicked out of me when he found out."
"I stole liquor from my parents' cabinet and blamed it on my brothers when they found out."
"I stole books from my Latin professor's office and promised I'd return them. Never did. Don't even feel bad about it, the guy was a dick."
The grin on my face feels permanent. "Vince, you're not the worst. Not even a little."
When I glance up to catch his reaction, his grin is just as fixed as mine.
We paint in silence after that, the words lingering in the air between us, each stroke of our brushes sealing the secrets we've just exchanged.
The olive green walls become a canvas for our confessions, each coat of paint another layer of understanding between us.
As I finally leave to drive downtown for my classes, the weight on my chest has lifted, replaced by a lighter, more fragile feeling. We've both laid down some of the burdens we've been carrying, but in doing so, I can't help but wonder what new weight we've taken on instead.