Chapter 78 #2
“I spent years believing the wrong story about her,” I frown. “And she died before I ever gave her the chance to tell me the truth.”
“That must be difficult to live with.”
No shit.
“And then there’s my brother. I hallucinate sometimes, that's why I take medication.”
Her pen stops moving.
“You experience hallucinations?”
“Yes.”
“What do you see?”
I rest my elbow on the desk and look down at my hands.
“I see my brother sometimes.”
Her expression shifts slightly.
“Do you know why?”
“I don’t know,” My gaze drops to my hands. “Maybe guilt.”
“Guilt from what?”
“From killing him.”
Her eyes stay steady on the screen.
“I killed him in self-defense,” I admit. “But I still see him. He shows up when the worst parts of me start pushing forward. When the violent instincts start coming back.”
She nods slowly.
“And before that?”
“Before my brother died,” I answer, “I used to see my father.”
“You hallucinated your father?”
“Yes.”
“When did that begin?”
“When the same urges started surfacing. Whenever the part of me that wants to hurt people started coming out, he would appear.”
She writes something down.
“So the hallucinations are connected to violent thoughts.”
“Yes. My brain reminds me exactly what happens when I let that part of myself run unchecked.”
“Do you believe you were born this way,” she asks, “or shaped this way?”
“Both.”
“If you had grown up somewhere safe, do you think you would still crave control?”
“Maybe.”
“Let me ask you something harder,” she continues. “Do you believe you deserve love?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Because ever since Brooke met me, her life has been turned upside down. She lost her friends. She lost whatever version of normal she had left. She survived things most people wouldn't make it through. Two years of violence, cults, kidnappings, funerals, blood. All of it tied to me.
“Because I don’t know how to give someone peace. But Broo–Veronica saw the worst parts and didn’t run.”
“And you?”
“I stay too.”
There is no version of this where I leave.
“Last question for today,” she gives a small smile. “If the past never comes for you, if no one knocks on that door, who do you want to become?”
“Everything my father wasn’t.”
“Define that.”
“Predictable, safe, loving. The man who fixes things around the house. The one who shows up to school conferences. The one who doesn’t need a contingency plan for every grocery run. The man who loves his wife in every way.”
“And do you think that is possible?”
“Yeah.”
“Good… Same time next week?”
“Yeah.”
“Camera on?”
“Maybe.”
The call ends.
I sit there for a long moment after the screen goes dark.
Then I stand up and walk toward the sound of voices in the other room.
Elise is sitting cross-legged on the floor with a sketchpad in her lap, tongue between her teeth in concentration.
Ryan’s next to her, half-watching, half-scrolling through something on a tablet Travis modded to run off-grid.
Brooke’s in the kitchen, barefoot, hair tied up, voice low as she talks to Travis on the phone.
She paces as she listens, relaxed, absentmindedly twirling the cord of the charger plugged into the wall.
They look… settled.
Elise glances up and catches me staring.
“What? Do I have something on my face?”
“No,” I reply. “Just trying to figure out if that’s supposed to be a raccoon or you.”
Ryan snorts. Elise rolls her eyes, but there’s no bite behind it.
“It’s Krueger, actually. I see you decided to be a D1 ragebaiter today.”
I walk over and crouch beside her. “I’m your big brother, I believe that’s part of the job description.”
“So annoying," she mutters, shading in the picture.
“Oh I can be worse.”
Ryan lifts the tablet. “I found that movie you were talking about. The crazy Korean one.”
“The revenge one?”
He nods. “Yeah. Travis said it was too violent for me. Which means it’s probably amazing.”
I smirk. “Oh we’re definitely watching that later.”
Brooke turns around from the kitchen and gives me that look, the one that says she heard everything. She hangs up and walks toward me, winding her arms around my waist. Her cheek presses against my chest.
“You good?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
Her brows lift. “And?”
“It went well.”
Brooke watches my face like she’s waiting for it to crack. Then she exhales and slides her fingers into my back pockets.
“You didn’t punch the screen.”
“Not this time.”
She leans in and murmurs, “Proud of you.”
I rest my chin on the top of her head.
Travis comes through the front door. He stops just inside the living room, surveys the scene, kids on the floor, Brooke wrapped around me, “After the Storm” playing low from the speaker.
“So, this is what domestic bliss looks like, huh?”
Brooke doesn’t even turn around. “You should know. How many times has Naomi been at your place this week?”
Travis smirks. “Well what can I say, the whole almost dying for her really did the trick.”
Elise eyes him warily as he lowers himself onto the rug beside her and reaches for her bowl of pretzels.
“Touch it and die.”
“I literally almost died, you know. Took seven stab wounds to the torso for you guys.”
Elise rolls her eyes. “You’re gonna milk that forever, aren’t you?”
“Yup.” He grabs one anyway and pops it into his mouth. “Perks of martyrdom.”
Ryan tries to stifle a laugh. I just shake my head.
This house still has secrets. Trauma embedded deep in all of us. But the laughter drowns it out now.
And somehow, I believe we might actually be okay.