Chapter 32
Zoe
No secret in the world means a thing unless there’s someone who believes it. Thank you for believing me.
—Zoe
Hot water streams down on my shoulders as I lean against the cold tiles with my eyes closed. Tears run down my face, stinging my eyes.
Jase knows.
He knows.
And he believes me.
He believed me without hesitation. Without doubt. Without questioning.
I sob. Everything hurts: my body, my heart, my soul.
But it’s the kind of pain that means a wound is slowly healing. I hadn’t realized that deep inside, I was afraid he wouldn’t believe me.
Just like Charlotte’s parents. Nothing like that could possibly happen in our house.
She’d been drinking. Her dress was too short. She was flirting. She wanted attention.
Is this her revenge for Charlotte getting the role of Aurora?
She’s trying to create a scandal for our family because she got so drunk that she can’t remember what happened.
Nothing happened.
It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since I overheard the conversation between Charlotte’s parents and mine; I can still hear it. It’s etched in my memory, and it will probably never fade away completely.
But today, for the first time, the voices are a little quieter. A little less threatening. They have less power over me.
Something inside me relaxes. Comes to rest. The pain is still there, just like the anger and the feeling of being lost. But the storm inside me has receded a little and become less violent.
I stay under the shower until my tears are cried out and I can barely feel the heat of the water. It’s already dusk when I finally leave my little bathroom, with no makeup on and my hair still damp. Jase’s hoodie is lying on my bed. He didn’t ask for it back when I left.
I told him the truth. Almost the whole truth.
Oh, God.
I told him what happened. A tremor runs through my body, my pulse races, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. My hands trembling, I reach for my phone and text Caleb.
Zoe:
Can I come see you?
I throw the phone on my bed. It lands on Jase’s sweatshirt as I quickly get dressed. Something feels strange. I feel strange.
My phone vibrates just as I finish dressing.
Caleb:
Is everything okay?
Zoe:
I think so . . . I’m not sure. Can we talk?
Caleb:
Give me ten minutes, then I’ll be home.
Zoe:
Thanks!!
Relief floods through me. I quickly call an Uber and don’t bother to blow-dry my hair. I just braid it and go.
The drive is a blur of flickering lights in the darkness. I’m warm and cold at the same time, even though I’m still wearing a coat over my sweater and it’s hot in the elevator in Caleb’s building. It feels like an eternity until I arrive at the penthouse Caleb shares with his friends.
I’ve barely knocked on the door when he opens it, with such a look of worry on his face that I immediately feel guilty.
“Are you okay?”
I nod and walk into the apartment.
“Yes. Everything’s okay. I . . . think so. Are the other guys here?”
“No, they’re all out. What’s going on, Zoe?”
“We have to talk about Jase.” It’s no use putting it off.
Caleb freezes. His eyes get intense, like he’s trying to read my mind. Then he exhales with a sigh. “Okay. Phew, I think I need a drink for this conversation,” he says. Maybe he really was reading my mind. Something about the expression on his face tells me he knows why I’m here.
He puts a hand on my shoulder and waits a second to see how I react. When I don’t flinch, he guides me to the living room. I drop onto the sofa while Caleb takes a bottle of whiskey out of the glass cabinet next to the door to the roof terrace.
“Do you want some?” he asks, holding up the bottle. At first, I want to refuse, but then I nod. “Just a little.” To calm my nerves.
Caleb seems to feel the same way. He gets two glasses from the kitchen and hands me one. I take a tiny sip and grimace as the alcohol burns in my throat. I don’t really like whiskey or alcohol in general, but a pleasant warmth spreads through my stomach.
Caleb downs his whiskey in one go and regards me with a look that’s simultaneously anguished, worried, and curious. “Okay, I think I’m ready. Shoot.”
I hesitate and bite my lower lip. I don’t know where to start.
“What are you worried about?” he asks, because he’s my brother and knows me better than anyone else in the world.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” I’m honest. I have to be, because I already hurt him once, and I never, ever want to see him the way he was that night again.
Caleb swallows and then shrugs, grinning at me. “If you’re worried that I might still have feelings for Jase, I can put your mind at ease: I don’t. But you already know that.”
“Yes, I know.”
Caleb has Parker, and he’s totally infatuated. But that’s not the only reason I was worried.
“Then spit it out.” He pokes me encouragingly, and then I just say it.
“We argued. I mean, that’s not quite right. Jase . . . he told me about a lot of things—things from last year that you and I didn’t know. And somehow, it got out of hand.”
Caleb stiffens, but I keep talking before he can get the wrong idea.
“We had sex, and—”
“Wait. What?” Stunned, he stares at me, but I’m not done yet.
“We slept together,” I repeat, and his look becomes even more incredulous. I understand how he feels. Even I can barely believe it. “But then Jase told me to leave, and earlier today, I told him everything.”
“You told him everything?” I hear shock in his voice, and it takes me a moment to understand his reaction. I shake my head vigorously.
“No, not everything. I didn’t tell him anything about you. Just about me.”
Caleb remains silent, reaches for the bottle, and fills his glass again.
“Caleb, I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear this. I shouldn’t have told you.” I make an effort to get up, but my brother pushes me back onto the sofa.
“Stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for. I want to hear everything. I just have a feeling that you’ve left out an essential part of the story. So let’s start again. What did Jase tell you? And why?”
“It’s about his parents. Did you know they kicked him out?”
Caleb goes pale, and his eyes widen in horror. “What?”
“They put him out on the street. Because he didn’t want to go to Harvard.”
Caleb begins to swear. “I knew his father was an asshole, but . . . what the hell? How could he? Fuck!”
“I know. It’s awful.”
“What else did he say?” Caleb’s hands are wrapped around his glass so hard that his knuckles are white.
I hesitate for a moment, but then I tell him what Jase said. How he said it. How terrible it was to hear what he’d been through. Caleb grows paler with every word. He swears. A lot. And then he gets very quiet.
“He must hate me,” he whispers. “I let him down.”
“You didn’t know. How were you supposed to know?”
“But that’s exactly it! I ignored his messages and calls. Because seeing him kiss you broke my heart, even though it wasn’t his fault. I knew he didn’t feel anything for me. Fuck, he must really hate me.”
I hate myself. He doesn’t have to say it for me to know what he’s thinking.
“Caleb, stop it.”
He grimaces, and we go quiet. Caleb is the one who breaks the silence. He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it, then smiles painfully. “Go on,” he says.
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure. How did you get from fighting to fucking?” His voice has a touch of humor. He’s trying to salvage the situation, but I guess there’s nothing left to save.
There are only things I need to say and that he needs to know. My face is burning with embarrassment, and I’m glad I have my glass to hold so I don’t start picking at my cuticles.
But the longer I talk, the more relaxed I get. Meanwhile, Caleb finishes his second drink.
“So?” he asks, stretching, when I’m finally finished. “How is that going?” He shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know what to say. Or how to react.” He breaks off, and I squeeze his hand.
“I know. I don’t either. This is all so crazy. I have no idea. It could be that nothing else happens between us. But if it does, I don’t want to keep it a secret from you. Because maybe—”
“Maybe your heart still wants him after all, and if he feels the same way, then you don’t want me to feel weird. Right? Because my sister might get together with my former best friend, who I was in love with?” Caleb helps me out, looking about as overwhelmed as I feel.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Yes. That’s about it.”
Caleb swallows hard. “Well, I’d be lying if I said it made me overjoyed. But it’s okay. Honestly. As long as you’re all right, I’m okay with it.”
“Really?”
“I promise. Then . . . you’re fine? With everything?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I feel good even. I feel . . .” I falter. My heart is beating too fast again. “Very good.” I make a choked sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “It felt so . . . incredible.”
All at once, tears well up in my eyes. Jase has given me something that I thought I could never have. A first time that I can remember—that I want to remember.
“Hey, Zoe.” Caleb puts his glass down on the coffee table and scoots over to me. “Don’t cry.”
He hugs me so tightly that I can’t breathe for a moment. I bury my face against his shoulder, and then I do cry. I can’t stop, no matter how hard I try to pull myself together. My brother murmurs soothing words to me, but I don’t understand a single one of them.
* * *
It’s late when I get back to the dorm, and I’m exhausted. The day has worn me out in a way that demands a hot bath, a pot of herbal tea, and twelve hours of sleep. But my alarm clock is going to ring in less than seven hours, my eyes are swollen from crying, and my nose is blocked.
I have countless unread texts from Mae. She’s probably worried because I skipped a theory lesson and she hasn’t seen me since I followed Jase after the pas de deux class. But I don’t have the energy to answer her now or go to her room.
I kick off my shoes as soon as I’m inside and slip into my nightshirt.
I’m halfway to bed when there’s a soft, hesitant knock at my door.
My heart leaps, and I hurry to answer it, not thinking.
I open it, and there he is. My legs go weak with relief.
His hair is messy, and he looks tired, but his eyes are wide awake.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi.” He rubs his nose, and the corners of his mouth twitch, almost a smile. “Can I come in?”
Nodding, I step aside, and then he’s in my room. It feels strange, the air between us, full of unspoken words. I close the door and go back to my bed because I suddenly remember I’m not wearing any pants. I shouldn’t care. After all, he’s already seen me naked. But I feel more vulnerable right now.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
Jase stands at my desk and checks out the photos I have hanging above it. Mom, Dad, Caleb, me. He turns to me, burying his hands in his pants pockets, and rocks back and forth on his heels. “I don’t know,” he replies.
“You don’t know?” God, I have to breathe. Breathe, Zoe.
He shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair, and groans with frustration. “No, I don’t know. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t know . . . It really doesn’t make sense. Or maybe it does. No clue.”
I sit on my bed and pull up my knees. “Do you want to talk?” I ask carefully.
He shakes his head again. “I don’t want to talk anymore.
We did enough of that. My head is so full that I don’t even know where to put all the damn thoughts.
I . . . actually, I just want to sleep. I’m sorry.
I shouldn’t have come over, I—” He breaks off and turns to the door.
He’s just about to open it again when I stop him.
“Do you want to stay here?” The question escapes before I can hold it back.
Jase turns to face me. “Are you serious?”
“You don’t have to. Only if you want,” I say, backpedaling. “I just thought—”
“Yes,” he says, and the relief in his voice pierces my heart.
I slide over on the mattress to make room for him, and he comes to bed.
Only now do I realize he’s not wearing any shoes.
He came over in his socks. I don’t know why, but that touches me.
I slip under the covers, and Jase lies down next to me.
We don’t touch, but I can feel warmth radiating from his skin.
“Are you okay?” I ask, and he laughs softly.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
“You can, once you’ve told me if you’re okay.”
He narrows his eyes. “No, not really. How about you?”
“Better,” I say honestly, feeling under the quilt for his hand. My fingers brush his skin, a silent question, because I know everything is far from being okay between us again. But he’s here, and maybe that’s a start. “I’m glad you know what happened.”
“And I’m glad you told me.” His fingers interlace with mine, and we instinctively move closer together until I can feel his breath on my skin, and he can feel mine.
“Tell me your secrets, and I’ll tell you mine,” I whisper. His eyes gleam. I turn off the light, and darkness floods the room. Warm darkness that feels like an embrace. Jase kisses my forehead, and I close my eyes.