Letter Twenty-Seven #7
“Yeah, but we’re family, so he has to care. But not enough to be honest with me. Not enough to let me be there for him back in England. He’s done nothing but push me away since I saw how he was treated over there, but the rest of my family? He pulls closer every day.”
“But don’t you see? It’s because he cares—because he’s been hiding this massive secret from you—that he’s been pushing you away. And you don’t make it very easy on him when you act jealous and say such nasty things to him.”
Michael shot me a glare. “Are you kidding? He wormed his way into my life, lied to me, hit on me, neglected to tell me we’re brothers for over a year, made a complete fool out of me back in England, forced you and Nic to keep this gigantic secret for him, can’t keep his hands off the girl I love—and I’m the one who’s making it hard?
Fuck that. He doesn’t get a free pass because he had a rough childhood and a shitty dad.
He doesn’t get a free pass just because we share some DNA.
He tricked me, Elliot. And on top of all the lying, he has Nic and my whole family thinking he hung the moon.
You, too, I guess. You expect me to forget everything he’s done because we’re brothers.
Because he’s a good guy. Because he’s sorry.
Well, he should be sorry. He majorly fucked me over—me more than anyone. ”
I reached for Michael’s face again, but he grabbed my wrist, his gaze stormy and dark.
“You always wanted a brother, remember? All those times you were stuck with us girls, and you said, ‘Why couldn’t I have had a brother?’ Well, you did. He was out there all along. You’re so lucky he found you.”
“Stop it,” Michael said, voice breaking on the words. “Stop trying to turn this into some sappy, feel-good movie shit.”
“You’re mad because you wanted him to trust you with the truth, and he didn’t. Because he’s the only guy you’ve ever really opened yourself up to, and he hurt you. Because you care about him, too.”
Michael squeezed my wrist and whispered, “Stop.”
“It’s okay. You can be mad at him and still accept him.”
Michael rested his forehead on my leg.
Then someone lightly knocked on my bedroom door, causing him to pull away. We both glanced up.
“What’s going on in here?” John asked, stepping into my room.
“We’re talking,” Michael said.
“Well, I’d prefer if you talked downstairs.”
Michael sat up. “Dad, we’re both adults here. You’re being ridiculous.”
“Adults.” John laughed. “When I was your age, I had a one-year-old who still didn’t sleep through the night and an eighteen-hour course load.”
Not to mention a second one-year-old living in England.
And Michael, who was newly aware of this fact, decided to be a dick about it. “Sounds like you were pretty irresponsible. I don’t have that problem.”
John laughed again, but the way someone does when they’re trying not to lose their temper. “You might want to change your attitude, son. Or I’ll change it for you.”
“I’ll change my attitude as soon as you tell me what the problem is,” Michael said. “You found us hooking up once, and now you freak out every time we’re alone together. Are we, like, half-siblings and you guys just…never told us?”
I’ll be honest here, Casey. In the brief pause before John answered, fear flashed hot in my chest.
“Now you’re the one being ridiculous,” John said.
“You and Nic share Mom. Maybe you shared Elliot’s mom, too. Maybe all four of you”—Michael pulled a face—“passed each other around back then. One big free-for-all.”
“Never happened,” John said, lifting his brows. “For one thing, Victoria and I didn’t have that kind of relationship.”
My dad appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on up here?”
“Michael’s asking if I’ve been with Elliot’s mom.”
Nic laughed. “Not possible. They hated each other.” He gestured at us. “Come on, you two. Back downstairs, please.”
“But you said I could have whatever I want,” I said, “and what I want right now is to talk to Michael alone. We’re in the middle of something.”
Nic shot me a hard look. “That was before you started self-destructing again. Downstairs. Now.”
“Sure,” I said. “Right after you tell us the real reason we can’t be left alone together.”
“Elliot,” John said, “you two—the history you have—you’re not healthy for each other.”
“By history, you mean the stabbing.”
“The stabbing’s part of it, yes.”
“You said it wasn’t, though. When you stopped us from being together, you claimed the stabbing wasn’t a reason.”
John hesitated. “I stopped you from being together because you ask him for pain, and he gives it to you—that’s the reason.”
My heart spiked. “How do you—?”
“He’s my son,” John said. “I know his habits.”
Seemed kinda weird to know his sexual habits, but whatever. Michael shifted uncomfortably beside me, so I guess it was weird for him, too.
“So he gave me a little pain. What’s the big deal?”
“But at what point would it have been enough?” Nic asked, hands causally stuffed inside his pockets. “How far would you have asked him to go? How badly would he have needed to hurt you before you could finally forgive yourself for something that happened eleven years ago?”
I dropped my gaze to the bed, cheeks burning with shame.
“You know what’s not healthy, Dad?” Michael said. “All the lying that goes on in this family. Whatever you and Mom have going on with Nic. The way you hid that from us.”
“We didn’t exactly…hide it,” John said. “Not from you kids.”
“Well, you sure as hell never talked to us about it. Elliot outed you months ago, and we still haven’t talked about it.”
“Fine,” John agreed. “What would you like to know?”
“How long?” asked Michael.
“Since Elliot’s mom left. Before that, actually. It started the summer before college.”
“Okay,” Nic said with a grimace, his hand slicing through the air. “We don’t need to get into the details.”
John gave him a look. “If they have questions, Nic, we should answer them.”
My dad looked like he’d rather have a tooth pulled than discuss this topic. Was it any wonder, Casey, that I had trouble talking about the mushy stuff, too?
Michael squinted at our dads. “So is Nic, like, your boyfriend, Dad? Or just Mom’s?”
“He’s ours,” John said. “If we could claim him in public, we would.”
“Oh my God,” I said, clutching my stomach. “This is weird. This is…I don’t think I can talk about this, either.”
“Then let’s all go downstairs,” Nic said, “where we can not talk about it.”
You should’ve seen the way John smiled at my dad, Casey. It was the smile you give someone when you find their actions both familiar and adorable, and you love them all the more for it. And while I could definitely appreciate that about them, it also made me want to vomit a little.
“You love my dad, Nic?” Michael asked.
On this topic, Nic didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Michael. I love your dad.”
“And you tell him that?”
“Yes,” Nic said softly. “All the time.”
“While you’re lying to him?” Michael asked.
“Lying to me about what?” John looked to Nic for an explanation.
“You think Elliot and I aren’t healthy for each other, but you hide things from my parents, and that’s okay?”
“What’s he talking about, Nic?” John demanded.
“Ask him what happened after Elliot’s assault on Halloween,” Michael said. “Ask him what he took care of behind your back and covered up.”
“So there was something to the look you gave Casey that day, back when Elliot accused you of hiding stuff,” John said, his head shaking, lips parted in disbelief. “You lied to me? Again? How many are you up to now? Three? That I know of?”
Now, I’ve rarely seen my dad scared of anything, Casey—except maybe me—but right then? He swallowed hard at the anger and betrayal behind John’s gaze, scared as shit.
“John? Nic?” Libby called up the stairs. “What’s going on up there?”
John pressed a finger to Nic’s chest. “We’ll talk about this later.”
Shaken by Michael’s revelation, they drifted out of my room. Leaving us alone, after all.
“What the hell, Michael? You just threw yourself under the bus. You’ll get in so much trouble when my dad tells John what you and Casey did.”
“Don’t care,” he said, staring after them. “It’s about time Nic’s held accountable for all the shit he’s been hiding.” Then he fell back against my bed and whispered, “This is so messed up.”
“What is?”
“Everything. Our dads. This secret about Casey. It could tear our families apart.”
My chest squeezed. “Don’t say that.”
“Elliot.” Michael tossed me a serious look. “After what just happened, how do you figure my dad will react when he finds out Nic’s been hiding a surprise son right under his nose?”
I thought of what Eleanor had told me about John—how devastated he’d been when Cassandra had run off, how desperately he’d tried to find her, how badly he’d needed to know what had happened to the baby. To you.
When I considered that stuff, it seemed especially problematic that my dad would keep you a secret from John.
“My mom will be angry, too,” Michael said. “At Nic and my dad—for getting some other girl pregnant right before her.” Michael thought for a minute. “Hey, where’s that picture of Casey’s mom at the bar with your mom?”
I grabbed Tessy off a nearby pillow, pulled the Velcro loose on her dress, and plucked the folded picture from her back. Michael and I huddled over it.
“I can definitely see the resemblance,” Michael said, studying Cassandra. “The eyes. The smile. Her whole face, really.”
“But Casey has John’s nose,” I said, poking the tip of Michael’s. “Yours and Bree’s, too.”
“Yeah,” Michael said. “After you told me, I went back and looked at all the pictures we’ve taken together over the last couple of years. I can’t believe I never noticed that before.”
I smiled. “It’s pretty obvious. And those baby pictures? You two looked freakishly similar when you were little.”
“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “Seeing those pictures should’ve been a major clue. Maybe I was in denial.”
“Do you think John will be able to forgive my dad for keeping Casey a secret?”