give you that. You nailed the description spot on.” I suck in my lips hard, making a near impenetrable straight line that holds in the other things I’m tempted to say.
Hayden groans, lowering his chin to his chest and letting his head fall into his open hands. His fingers scratch at his scalp, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that he’s . . . he’s crying. When he raises his head, I’m met with red eyes and a sour face.
“Tory, I messed up. I messed up, and it messed up everything, and I don’t know how to make it right.” His confession churns my stomach.
“Messed up how?” I question.
Another deep breath for both of us. Hayden brings his fist to his mouth, holding it to his bottom lip while he blinks at me, trying to get the words out. My fingers itch to grab his wrist and yank his fist away, but he needs it right now. He needs to hide a little, as silly as that seems.
“I saw mom and Mr. Fuller,” he admits.
My brow pulls in so tight I can feel the fold above the bridge of my nose.
“Like, at our house?” I question.
“Freshman year, at football camp. When they first—” He can’t finish that statement and nobody wants him to. It’s an awful image.
“Hayd.” I shift to lean against the sink. I press my palms into my eyes, dizzy from this information. I pull one hand away and lift a brow as I look at my brother. “You knew? You knew all this time?”
He shakes his head.
“I wasn’t sure. I thought it was only that first time and maybe that was it, but then this summer—”
“Oh, my God, summer. They kept it going over summer,” I groan. I flip around and grip the sink, taking in my own sick expression in the scratched-up mirror.
“When your letter came, I thought if you and Dad left, I’d be there alone with Mom, and then . . . ” His shoulders rise up to his ears as he shakes his head. “I deleted the email, but then the letter came and I wanted to throw it away, but also, I knew it was important to you. I’ve thought about throwing that thing away every day for nearly four years.”
“Why didn’t you?” I mumble, once again dropping my chin to my chest as I lean over the sink. “God, Hayd. I wish I’d never known. It would have been better than this.”
I can’t help but play through the what ifs of my life, a thing I have been doing constantly since I found out Hayden sabotaged my shot. Yeah, Mom and Dad probably would have split up a long time ago, and Hayden and I probably would have lived apart, but I’d be at Olsen and on my way to D1 somewhere big, maybe more. But I wouldn’t have had Abby. Probably not ever.
My hands grip the porcelain and I shake it a few times, knowing if I want I could probably rip the sink from the wall. I stand straight and let my hands fall to my sides while I just breathe.
“It all got away from me, and then it seemed for so long like things were just . . . fine.” Everything about the look in his eyes is the opposite of fine. My brother made some selfish, stupid choices, but they’ve taken a toll on him. This is why he’s struggling so much. While I can get mad and let anger rule me for a little while, he’s still trying to tuck everything that’s wrong into this little box to keep it safe, keep our family whole.
“I love you.” I say it with my gaze toward the floor. The same words I started this with, and maybe I’m saying them because I need to remind myself a bit, too.
“I swear to God, brother, if you’re about to hug me,” he says, trying out my brand of humor, a default mode I prefer over emotional moments. I laugh at the attempt. Not bad.
“I’m gonna hug you,” I say, moving in closer. He recoils, but only for show.
“It’s coming, big man. Might as well let it happen. Feel the love,” I ramble on, getting close enough that we can touch.
We stare at one another with limp bodies and tired hearts, for once truly the same in almost every single way. We embrace mutually, and I hug him with as much force as he hugs me. My hand