Chapter 21
luna
“I have to go, Jer. I can’t stay here.” I shoved clothes into my backpack, not even checking if they were clean or folded.
The social worker was finally coming. After months of telling the school counselor that I didn’t want to be here anymore, they finally listened.
Jer leaned in the doorway, his brows pulled tight. “But he likes you. I don’t get it.”
I swallowed hard, staring down at my bag. I couldn’t tell him. Not the real reason Arthur “liked” me. Not why I had my own room. Not why I jumped every time the hallway light flicked on at night.
“You won’t like it anywhere else,” he whispered. “I’ve been to other homes. They’re not better.”
I zipped my bag with shaky fingers. “I have to, Jer. They’re all better than this.”
I’d learned how to hold things in. How to keep secrets. Secrets kept people safe. This one would protect him. Because he was right. Arthur did like him, and I’d rather leave forever than find out what would happen if that ever changed.
“You’ll be good here, Jer.” I grabbed his hands, holding on tight, my eyes locked on his. His dark hair flopped over his forehead, those wide, scared eyes burning into me. “Be good, Jer. Do what he says, and whatever you do, never, ever tell anyone about us. Remember? We’re each other’s secret.”
Jer nodded slowly. “Luna . . . ”
I shook my head, already backing away. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Jeremy. Don’t you ever forget that.”
“Jeremy is the secret? I’m not following.”
I was looking at his bright blue eyes, his blonde hair neatly styled. He was perfect. Dirks was soft and supple in all the ways I needed him to be, but I’d never told anyone this secret.
“Nova doesn’t know,” I whispered.
He nodded, seemingly understanding the weight this secret held.
“Jeremy and I are . . . we’re foster siblings.”
The world stopped spinning. The air left my lungs. My heart thrummed quickly inside my chest.
He stood up from where he’d been sitting, his stool scraping back against the tile. His movements were slow, as though his body was trying to catch up to what his mind had just heard.
“You kept this from me? Both of you?”
The words stung worse than if he’d yelled. The hurt was etched into the lines near his mouth, his furrowed brow, the way his eyes avoided mine. The memories being re-sorted. The assumptions being undone.
“It was only a few months,” I said quickly. “I left, and he stayed. It wasn’t some long, twisted sibling thing. It was . . . ” I paused, searching for breath. “It was survival.”
Dirks shook his head, running a hand over his jaw as he stepped back and looked toward the ceiling.
I pushed back from the stool, the metal legs squealing beneath me, and walked over to him.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you by keeping it from you, but it wasn’t mine to tell. It was ours. Jeremy and I—we were kids, scared, holding onto the only good thing we had. I left because I had to. Because staying meant something worse.”
“I get it,” he murmured. “I do, but I don’t know how to feel about it yet.”
“You don’t have to know,” I said, voice trembling. “Just . . . don’t walk away.”
“I’m not walking away. But this is big, Luna.”
“We saw each other again after all those years, and we promised not to say a word to anyone. We said we’d keep it buried.”
Dirks didn’t move or speak.
“It wasn’t supposed to mean anything, but it did.
” I went on, the words tumbling out. “We dated, and it was easy and familiar. Then . . . I met you, and somehow it was still easy. The three of us.” I looked down at my hands.
“We kept it a secret because it made us feel protected and because we didn’t know how to be that open.
We’re not wired that way.” A broken laugh tore out of me.
“Maybe it’s just that we’re both really fucking broken trauma magnets. ”
Dirks still didn’t say anything, so I looked up.
“Baby . . . I know this is a lot. I know this is heavy. I can’t promise I’ve told you everything.
I wish I could, but unlearning a lifetime of survival tactics doesn’t happen in a night.
” I walked toward him, eyes stinging. “I swear to you . . . this secret? It was the hardest one to hold. I didn’t want to keep it from you. ”
“Then why did you?”
“Because I didn’t want to lose this. And because . . . ” I swallowed. “Because it’s tied to a version of me I’ve spent years trying to forget.”
Dirks exhaled slowly and sat down on the couch, rubbing a hand over his face.
“I get it,” he said finally. “I get why it was hard. I’m not mad about the secret, Luna. I’m mad that you thought I couldn’t handle it.”
I sat beside him, the air between us still thick.
He turned to face me. “Look, I’m not expecting you to pour out every dark corner of your life all at once, but I need something from you, if we’re going to do this.”
“Okay . . . what?”
“Truth. That’s it. Doesn’t have to be pretty. Doesn’t have to come fast. But it has to be real.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
He studied me, his blue eyes sharper than ever. “So tell me one thing. No bullshit.”
I braced myself.
“Do you miss him?”
“Y-yes.” I didn’t backpedal.
Dirks looked down, nodded once like he expected it, maybe even respected it more than a lie. “Okay,” he said. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
“Does that hurt you?”
“No,” he said. “It doesn’t hurt. It . . . makes me think we should find him.”
My heart twisted.
“Because what you and Jeremy had—it’s not something I can replicate. You have a history of surviving shit together. He gives you something I can’t.”
“You can.” I argued, leaning in. “You do.”
He shook his head again, gently. “Luna girl . . . he knew you when you were still building yourself. When your foundation was still wet cement. You two grew up in chaos together. I’ll never understand what that kind of bond feels like. That’s okay. I don’t have to be him.”
I blinked, my eyes burning. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying it’s made me realize something. About why it never worked with Will.”
I pulled back slightly, eyes narrowing. “Don’t.”
“Luna—”
“No,” I said, grabbing his shoulders to turn him toward me. “Don’t you dare compare yourself to him.”
“I’m not,” he said softly. “I’m saying it didn’t work with Will because he didn’t know how to carry all of you. You just need people willing to hold the weight of your past and help build your future.”
I let go of his shoulders slowly, the fight easing out of my body. “You and Jer are those people?”
“Yeah. We are.” He looked at me like it was the easiest answer in the world.
“Let’s find him, then,” Dirks said. “After the holidays. Whatever it gives us, closure or answers, we’ll face it.”
I nodded, heart pounding.
“Good,” he murmured. “Can I kiss you now?”
A laugh bubbled out. “Of course you can.”
He leaned in, grazing my cheek with one hand and settling the other on my hip as his lips met mine. His nose brushed mine as he pulled back.
“Are you mad?”
“No. I’m proud of you. I’ll wait for you to unwind it all . . . and thank you for trusting me with it.”
“Want to see what I have out back? It’s my favorite part of the guesthouse.”
He nodded, and I grinned, slipping my fingers into his and tugging him toward the back door. It wasn’t far, nothing in this cozy little place was, but the moment I pushed it open, the crisp winter air wrapped around us.
Out on the small wooden deck, nestled at the edge of the tree line, sat a sunken hot tub. The trees framed it like a secret hideaway, the soft glow from the string lights overhead making it feel like something out of a movie.
“There’s a separate pool and hot tub for the main house, but this one’s mine. I love how private it is. It helps my muscles after a long day at work.”
He let out a low whistle, clearly impressed, and I watched him take in the little pocket of peace I’d carved out for myself.
“This is nice, Lune.”
“I liked my little apartment in London, but . . . ” I glanced back at the steam rising into the night. “I agree. I like this a lot better.” I turned toward him fully, a mischievous smile tugging at my lips. “Wanna skinny-dip?”
His eyes lit up. “Always.”
I leaned in and kissed him softly, asking for forgiveness one more time with the press of my lips. He nodded, swallowing hard, then stepped back and tugged his shirt over his head, quickly stripping out of his pants without a second thought.
“Last one in”—he grinned, cocking a brow—“owes the other person oral.”
I gasped, laughing, and bolted toward the edge of the deck, already halfway out of my clothes. “You’re on.”