Chapter 11 #2
“You know,” she says, bumping her shoulder into mine, voice pitched just low enough to feel conspiratorial, “stepbrother/stepsister is one of the most searched terms on Pornhub.”
I choke on the drink handed to me by the redhead I met before the memorial.
“Moira,” snaps a blonde in tight jeans and a black leather jacket, coming up to join a small circle of women now gathering around us, separating me further from Caleb.
Um…
“What?” Moira says, completely unapologetic. “I’m just saying.”
Heat floods my face.
Not because she’s wrong. But because she’s not supposed to say it out loud.
Not when Caleb is literally right there. And Jesus, being back in this house, it’s like I can still feel the ghost of his hands on my body from ten years ago.
I take a longer drink than is necessary. It has tequila in it, which I’m appreciating in this moment.
Focus.
Be normal.
Act like none of this affects you.
“It’s weird seeing you out of full leathers, Quinn,” Moira says to the blonde.
Quinn shrugs, her narrowed eyes never leaving me. “My client list is full at the moment. Every powerful man from Dallas to Houston wants a dommy mommy these days.”
Dommy mommy?
I’m glad I didn’t just take another sip of my cocktail.
I mean—it’s ridiculous to pretend like I’m scandalized. I work at a tattoo shop, and we certainly get the kinky types. Our piercer likes to tell stories of all the Prince Albert piercings he’s done, and how he likes to make grown men cry.
We certainly have plenty of repeat clients who like to take the needle because, frankly, they’re just masochists. So it’s not like I don’t know the type.
It’s just the fact that these are Caleb’s friends—and clearly his best friends, by the way they jostle and tease him—that’s taking me a minute to wrap my head around.
Caleb is such a nice boy in my memory. Popular enough, but in the debate-president kind of way.
I took his freaking virginity, for God’s sake.
But now the man’s got plenty of tattoos of his own and runs a Goddamn sex Dungeon.
“So you’re the stepsister, huh?” Quinn says, narrowing her eyes at me. “How come we’ve never heard of you before? It’s clear Caleb thinks a lot of you.”
“He looks at you like he’d burn the world down for you,” the redhead adds.
“I’m sorry—?” I choke on my cocktail again. “Who are you all again?”
“Oh, I used to be Caleb’s fuck buddy,” Moira says brightly, but then waves a hand. “But that was a long time ago. And we’re talking about you.”
“You were his… what?”
Quinn quickly takes the cocktail out of my hand and gives me one solid thwack in the center of my back.
“So did you two, like… love each other back when you were teenagers?” Moira continues, eyebrows bouncing.
A fourth woman—Anna, I think was her name when we were introduced earlier—just looks on with crossed arms. “We just care a lot about Caleb,” she says. “We want the best for him.”
“Okay, well,” I try to squeeze past where they’ve walled me in. “I’m gonna go see if I can find him again.”
Quinn gets in my way, tilting her head. “I’m very perceptive about people. It’s my superpower.”
“Great. I’m so happy for you,” I say, then try to step around her.
But she puts one foot out, stopping me.
“And what I perceive about you is that you’re running from something.”
I was going to shove her out of the way, but I freeze at her words.
“I’m not running. Not anymore.”
“Are you so sure? Maybe you ran here—to Caleb—and then you’re going to run away just as fast, leaving him broken… Again.”
“Is that what he told you?” I ask, whip-quick.
“He didn’t have to,” Quinn says. “But I can see it on his face today. That’s what happened, isn’t it?”
I shake my head.
“It wasn’t like that. I mean… it was. But not because— It was all a terrible misunderstanding—”
And Z lying. And me sleeping with him and getting pregnant, and—
I stop and breathe out.
Why am I trying to explain myself to this bitchy mean girl?
Probably because it’s clear that for all her badass vibes, she cares about Caleb. Everyone in this room does. He’s found a family here, and they don’t want to see him hurt.
And like the woman said—she’s perceptive.
So I glare back at Quinn.
“After today, I’m out of here. I just came to say goodbye to Helen.”
“Is that what you’re telling yourself?”
“Goddamn, you’re a real bitch, aren’t you?”
She smiles. “You’re perceptive too.”
“Hey, guys,” comes Caleb’s familiar voice, and I relax immediately at the sound of it.
He’s walking toward us, an easy smile in place—but his eyes flick between faces, reading the tension instantly.
“Everything good over here?” he asks.
I don’t even hesitate.
I paste on a smile and step toward him as if nothing just happened. I don’t want to stress him out or intrude on his life here any more than I already have.
“Perfect timing,” I say lightly. “I was just telling them—I should probably head back to Austin.”
There. I said it out loud.
The women part as he reaches us. I see a flash of different emotions wash over his face at my words.
Panic. Denial. And then, finally, the weight of a quiet, devastating acceptance settles in behind his eyes. Like he knew. Like he knew the moment he saw me that I’d be walking right back out of his life.
Because all I do is run.
“Right,” he says, nodding once. Too quickly. “Yeah. Of course.”
He tries to recover—God, he tries—but I know him. I always knew him.
I reach out, resting my hand on his shoulder.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I say softly. “And for letting me say goodbye.”
My fingers press just slightly. And for a second—
We just look at each other, and I lose myself in his blue eyes. There’s too much there. Too many years and too many almosts.
“Let me walk you out,” he says. It’s not a question, and I’m glad for even a moment more at his side. Another few memories to treasure and torment me. But God, I want to squeeze every last drop out of these moments with him.
I nod because I can’t trust myself to speak. We move side by side toward the front door, and each step feels heavier than the last. Oh God, why does it feel like I’m making a mistake again?
Like I’m walking away from something I never really let myself have—
Panic creeps in, sharp and unexpected.
This is it.
This is the last moment.
I have to go back.
Back to Z and the life I chose.
Back to my son. No matter how tempting everything I lost ten years ago, my son is all that matters.
And Caleb—
God—
Caleb will always just have to stay a what-if. I can’t come back here and land in his life like the wrecking ball I was last time. He has a good life here with friends who take care of him. One day, he’ll fall in love and have fat-faced little babies of his own.
I suck in a breath that doesn’t quite fill my lungs.
Keep moving.
Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop moving.
But then—
Right as we pass the foyer by the stairs that I used to jog up every day on the way to my bedroom beside Caleb’s, I pause at a display of photos set up for the celebration of life.
Photos I’ve never seen before. I slow down to look, even knowing as I’m doing it that I’m just stalling. I lean in to examine the details of each photo of Helen in her prime, grinning at the camera.
“She was so beautiful,” I murmur, stepping closer.
Helen glows out from every frame—laughing and alive in a way that hurts to look at.
There are photos of parties. Of quiet moments between her and Silas, and of a life that feels so full it almost aches.
And then—
My gaze catches and I freeze. My heart stops.
Because right beside all the other snapshots is a picture of Helen with an arm around a small child who looks exactly like…
No.
No, it can’t be. That’s—
That’s—
My hand lifts without permission, fingers brushing the glass.
“…What is this?” I whisper.
My voice doesn’t sound like mine.
Blood roars in my ears.
The world tilts.
Because that’s not just any little boy standing beside Helen.
That’s—
That’s Bruiser.
My son.
In her arms.
Smiling.
Alive in a moment I was never part of.
“Just my third-grade picture,” Caleb says behind me, casually. “Why?”
Third grade. Third—
My stomach drops. Everything clicks. Every lie and every missing piece.
Every moment that never quite made sense—
Oh my God.
Oh my God. Z did much, much worse than just lie the night he said Helen wanted me gone.
Somehow, I can’t even fathom how, he lied about everything.