Chapter 20
dirks
We walked down the path to her house in silence. The cold bit at our cheeks, breath fogging in the night air as we picked up the pace, her hair swinging with every step. When we reached the guesthouse, she kicked the door open with the toe of her sneaker and stepped inside, the heat hitting us.
“It’s small . . . ” she started, brushing snow off her sleeves, but I didn’t hear the rest.
I was awestruck.
Not by the size, but by how much it looked and felt like her.
There was soft lighting, a candle burning on the windowsill, and mismatched mugs drying in the rack.
A fuzzy blanket was tossed over the couch.
Plants—some alive, some hanging on by a thread—lined the windows.
A pair of fuzzy socks sat abandoned near the door.
“I love it,” I said honestly, stepping fully inside and shutting the cold out behind us.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “It’s . . . perfect.”
She bit her bottom lip, toeing off her sneakers, then turned to face me. Guilt was written all over her face.
“Dirks . . . I’m so sorry.”
I set the grocery bag down on the small kitchen counter, the sound echoing louder than it should’ve. “Luna—”
“No. Let me say it first.” She stepped toward me, her eyes wide and pleading. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve said something, but it wasn’t my place to say anything for their protection.”
I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter. “I’m not gonna lie. I was upset. Not just about Scarlette. About all of it. You kept me in the dark about something huge.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I know. And I hate that I hurt you. We promised we’d keep what we had separate from their story.”
I looked at her, trying to find the version of her I’d first reconnected with—the one who’d let me in easily. “Yeah, we promised. But I didn’t realize that meant keeping a secret baby out of the loop.”
Her shoulders slumped. “It wasn’t about keeping her from you. It was about protecting Scarlette.”
I exhaled slowly. “You should’ve trusted me.”
“I know.” She took another step, her voice trembling. “I’m trying. I want to. I’m still learning how to be a good partner.”
I wrapped her in my arms, holding her and rubbing slow circles along her back as her breath evened out against my chest. When she finally pulled away, I kissed the top of her head, then turned to the bag I’d dropped on the counter.
“If nothing else,” I said, reaching in, “I’m going to feed you.”
“You brought dinner?”
“Of course I did. You look like you’ve been living off coffee and protein bars.”
I started pulling out containers, stacking them on the counter as I spoke. “Soup. Bread. Those cookies you pretend you don’t like but always eat when you think no one’s watching.”
She laughed softly, the sound loosening the tension in the room just a little.
I glanced at her, brow raised. “So . . . is there anything else?”
She chewed the inside of her lip, eyes dropping to the table. “Yes,” she whispered.
My hand froze over the bag. I closed my eyes for a beat, thankful my back was turned so she couldn’t see the way my jaw clenched or the breath I had to slowly force out.
Of course there’s something else.
I opened a random cabinet, scanning for bowls, trying to act casual while my brain kicked into overdrive.
“Okay,” I finally said, voice even. “You wanna tell me now or after soup?”
“After,” she said softly.
I nodded without turning. “Alright.”
I found a couple bowls in the cabinet and filled them up, grabbed two spoons, and pulled the nearest stool out beside hers. We ate quietly, side by side. She didn’t look at me much, and I didn’t push her.
“What else is in the bag?” she asked, nudging the paper sack still half folded on the counter.
“Nah,” I muttered, not even glancing over. “For later.”
She nodded, eyes flicking down to her bowl, and set her spoon down.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she murmured. “How to be honest and open about things.”
“Luna girl,” I crooned, trying to coax her out of whatever memory she was drowning in. “It’s me.”
She shook her head. “You don’t get it. I bounced around foster homes. I had bags packed more times than I had birthdays. I never felt like I had a home until I met Nova and her mom. And even then, I wasn’t living with them. I practically did, but I wasn’t theirs.”
My chest pulled tight.
“I was never wanted enough to stay, so I never told people when things mattered. I never said anything real because if I didn’t say it, I couldn’t lose it.
Couldn’t lose them. When I found out she was moving back, part of me panicked because I didn’t know how to let you in without feeling like I was betraying her.
” She finally looked up at me. “You were one of the first to ever see me. After all the years apart, I think I was still trying to figure out if you being here was real. If we were real.”
I reached out, but she pulled back slightly. Not pulling away completely but almost . . . hesitating.
“T-there’s more, and I want to tell you, I do. I haven’t figured out how yet. It’s not just about Nova. Or Scarlette. I’ve been carrying something huge, and not telling you makes me feel sick, but I’m scared that saying it out loud might ruin this. Whatever this is.”
My stomach clenched, but I forced myself to nod. “Okay.”
“I know you probably hate me right now,” she added, lips trembling. “Maybe I deserve that. I spent my whole life bouncing around places, learning how to protect myself with silence. Secrets made me feel safe. I don’t want to live like that anymore.”
“I get it. You’ve had to protect yourself. You’ve lived your whole life learning that silence keeps you safe.”
She opened her mouth, but I cut her off gently. “But I’m not them. I’m not temporary, Luna.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed hard.
“You’re asking me to stay. To be patient.
To trust that there’s something more. But how can I do that if you’re still hiding the parts of you I’m supposed to love?
” I softened my voice. “I need to know your secrets. Not to hold them over you. Not to fix them, but to see you. To understand you. Because I can’t keep guessing where I stand with you. Not after all this time.”
She blinked fast, and I saw her walls shifting. Cracking. Her fingers twitched by her side.
“You want me to be honest,” she whispered.
“I want you to be real with me, even if it’s messy and hard to say.”
She looked at me, and there was something in her eyes I hadn’t ever seen. It was the aching truth trying to claw its way out.
“There’s one more thing,” she breathed. “And it’s not small. It’s big. Bigger than Nova. Bigger than Scarlette. It’s something I’ve never told anyone . . . except for him.”
I nodded once. “Then tell me. Whatever it is . . . I want to carry it with you.”
She looked off toward the small window over the sink. Her shoulders started shaking, and I saw the tears on her cheeks.
“Hey . . . Luna . . . ”
“It’s so much,” she whispered. “It’s too much.”
I reached for her, but she held a hand up, not to push me away, but to brace herself.
“I promised him,” she whimpered. “I told him I wouldn’t tell you. I gave him my word.”
Of course it was Jeremy.
My stomach twisted with something hot and acidic. Not jealousy, not really—but that sharp sting that came when someone else got the pieces you didn’t know were even on the table. The pieces that mattered. The pieces that made her.
Why him and why not me?
We had a whole history carved into our bones, and yet Jeremy got the one thing she never gave anyone. The truth.
Fuck, I cared about him, too. That was the worst part. We were never in a relationship, but I cared for him like a brother, like a partner, like someone who shared the weight of loving her, too.
“I . . . ” She sniffled, wiping at her face. “It didn’t feel like mine to tell. He asked me to hold it, and I did. Even when I wanted to tell you. Even when it hurt not to.”
My chest ached. “Why him?” I asked, and I didn’t mean for it to come out so raw. “Why did he get that part of you?”
“Because he’s the secret.”