Chapter 23
TROY
The key to a good sandwich is confidence. Doesn’t matter what’s in it—if you hesitate, the whole thing falls apart.
I’m halfway through layering smoked turkey and gouda on a toasted ciabatta when I second-guess my choice. Maybe I should make the egg mayo sandwiches. Fuck it, I love cooking for people and I want to make her something that I know she will like. Quickly preparing some eggs, I decide to make both.
Behind me, Ethan lets out a guttural growl that’s equal parts rage and melodrama.
“No, no, no, no—come on, you absolute fucking walnut!”
The unmistakable sound of defeat follows. Some poor pixelated character bites it hard on-screen.
I call over my shoulder, “Everything okay over there, shortcake?”
“Just this stupid game,” he mutters, not looking away from the TV.
He’s half-sprawled across the couch, one sock on, one off, hoodie hood pulled halfway over his head like it’s trying to shield him from reality.
I go back to the sandwich making. She is probably going to think it’s weird that I did this.
Worst case, she makes fun of me. I think I’d be okay with that.
But then Ethan sighs. Not a loud one, just long. Tired.
I glance back. His face isn’t in game-mode anymore. He’s slumped, thumb just barely moving on the controller.
Something’s off.
I wipe my hands on a dish towel and turn. “Alright, dude. Talk to me. What’s actually going on?”
He shrugs. “Game sucks.”
I walk over and nudge his foot with mine. “You suck at lying, man.”
His jaw tightens, and after a beat, he sets the controller down, eyes still locked on the paused screen.
“I think Paige is cheating on me.”
Oh shit.
“What?”
He rubs the back of his neck like he’s still trying to work out how he got here. “Someone posted a story last night. Some house party downtown. I wasn’t even following the person—one of my course mates saw it and sent it to me. Paige is in the background, and she’s…”
He trails off. Doesn’t say it. Doesn’t need to.
“With someone else?”
He nods once. Swallows hard.
“You sure it’s her?”
“Yeah.” He sounds wrecked. “She told me she wasn’t going out-out. Said it was a girls night in at her place. Told me not to come.”
That alone hits a nerve. Paige always rolled through parties with Ethan like they came as a set.
Lately, she’d started drifting. I’d noticed.
We all had. But Ethan’s Ethan. His loyalty and optimism are never-ending.
He sees the best in people even after they’ve handed him proof they don’t deserve it.
“Did you talk to her?”
“No. I don’t even know how to start.”
He finally looks at me. Eyes red-rimmed but dry. Waiting. Hoping for something solid he can hold onto. But what do you say to that?
Yeah, she’s definitely cheating. That’s fucked.
You deserve better, bro. You’ll be ok.
It all feels thin. Not enough. God I’m so bad at this stuff. This is what matters.
Before I can press for an answer, I hear footsteps on the stairs. Alex appears.
She clocks Ethan immediately.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asks, voice soft. She crosses the room without waiting for an answer and sits next to him. Oh thank god, I was drowning here and needed a girl’s thoughts.
He doesn’t speak. Just leans over and buries his face in her shoulder.
Oh. Shit.
Alex looks over Ethan’s mop of strawberry-blond hair, eyes wide, then lifts her gaze to me.
A very clear what the hell did you do to him expression.
I raise both hands. “It wasn’t me! He just… started leaking.”
She gives me a patented Alex eye-roll, then pats the other side of the couch.
I hesitate.
“I’m not really built for this,” I mutter.
She doesn’t blink. Just points harder. Other shoulder. Now.
I drag my ass over and sit. Ethan doesn’t move. Just keeps sobbing into Alex’s sweater.
After a moment, I give the top of his head a stiff, awkward pat.
“There, there,” I say, monotone. “You’re very brave.”
Alex chokes back a laugh.
Ethan, to his credit, actually snorts through his tears.
“That helped?” I ask.
He nods, sniffling. “Weirdly, yeah.”
Alex squeezes his shoulder. “Okay, talk to me. What’s going on?”
He takes a shaky breath. “I think Paige cheated on me.”
Silence.
My chest twists. Alex’s expression crumples into immediate concern. “What? Why do you think that?”
He explains the whole thing again.
I exchange a look with Alex. We’re both wincing.
She’s quiet for a beat, then reaches for him again. “God, Eth. I’m so sorry. That’s—” She shakes her head and doesn’t finish it. Doesn’t need to.
Ethan just nods, cheeks blotchy, eyes rimmed red but somehow still wide open.
“I mean, I really like her. I love her.”
Alex’s mouth presses into a tight line. She doesn’t say anything else, but I can practically hear the silent “what the actual fuck” floating in the air around her.
I feel it too.
That’s not how we do things. When we party, we party together.
That’s the whole point. It’s not a rule, exactly—it’s just…
understood. Paige was always down for that.
She’d show up at Moe’s with a scarf in her hair and an astronomy fact ready to drop mid tequila shot.
She fit in. Or at least, we thought she did.
Ethan rubs his face like he’s trying to erase it all. “Maybe it wasn’t a kiss. Maybe she just—leaned in or something. Maybe it’s not what it looks like.”
Alex shifts beside him, brows drawn in sympathy. “You don’t have to make excuses for her.”
That’s when the front door swings open and Tara comes clattering in, voice halfway through a passionate argument already. Alfie trails behind her, quietly amused.
“I’m just saying,” Tara declares, “technically, erosion is a cave’s origin story.”
Alfie replies, dry as ever, “And I’m saying that’s not how most geologists define it.”
But they both freeze when they see us, Ethan curled between Alex and me, looking wrecked; Alex with her arm wrapped around him; me hovering nearby like an emotionally constipated scarecrow.
Tara’s expression drops in an instant. “What the hell happened?”
Alfie’s whole posture shifts. His eyes narrow. “Who made him cry?”
Ethan groans, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head. “Nobody made me cry. I am a grown man.”
Tara marches over and drops onto the coffee table directly in front of him. “E,” she says gently. “Talk to us.”
He looks down, shoulders tight, and I can tell he’s trying to figure out how to say it a third time. The words stick.
So I do it for him. “Paige might’ve cheated.”
Tara steps further into the room, gaze landing on me for just a moment.
And for the first time in a long while, I see it—that thing between us that we still haven’t talked about. The weight of a secret we both kept too long.
She knows I’ve been carrying guilt. I know she’s still figuring out how to forgive me.
We haven’t really talked about it since it blew up earlier this year—the whole mess with our dad, the lies, the weird silence between us after she found out I’d helped cover for him.
But in that second, our eyes meet and I know we’re both thinking about it.
She blinks it away and turns toward Ethan, settling onto the coffee table in front of him.
Tara inhales sharply. “That bitch.”
Alfie, still at the edge of the room, says calmly, “What’s her address?”
Ethan blinks at him. “What?”
“I just want to talk,” Alfie says.
“Dude.”
“Conversation only,” he repeats.
Alex rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, very casual conversation, I’m sure. Maybe with a crowbar in the car just for ambiance?”
Tara gestures at him without looking away from Ethan. “A very polite, potentially threatening conversation. From my scary boyfriend with God-tier upper body strength.”
Alfie shrugs. “I’m available now.”
Ethan groans again. “You guys are unhinged. Seriously.”
Alex strokes his hair like she’s trying to smooth the hurt right out of him. “Ignore them. Just breathe, okay? No decisions today. No big moves. Just… exist.”
Tara leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You want to go slash her tires or make a voodoo doll later, we’ll all be here. But for now? You’re allowed to feel like shit. You’re allowed to cry.”
Ethan leans against Alex’s shoulder again, quieter this time. “I just… I really thought she was it, you know?”
Nobody says anything. Because what the hell do you say to that?
I glance back toward the kitchen. Sandwiches untouched. My plan to swing by the bookstore with Delilah’s very calculated “not a date” lunch feels pretty stupid now.
This—this is what matters.
Because as ridiculous as we all are, as loud and chaotic and messed up as we get, we always show up for each other.
I make sure Ethan’s ok before I resume what I was doing, I check the time. 4:15. I hope I can make it there before her shift ends.