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The kitchen was silent while everyone waited for my reaction.
I sat frozen, holding my fork just above my plate, like someone had hit the pause button on my brain.
Jackson.
The guy who freaking ruined me, was going to be moving in? With us?
I was finally able to let go of the fork, and it dropped to my plate with a loud clank.
"What?" I asked with a small, humorless laugh as I glanced at Jackson, but he was just staring at his plate — kind of reminding me of that day in the cafeteria.
My eyes flicked to Elliott, who was rubbing the side of his face as he looked at the back door, like he was waiting for the right moment to make a break for it.
My weak attempt at laughter slowed as I turned to Mom with wide eyes, but she was back to eating her pasta like it was just another normal night. Like she hadn't just completely turned my world upside down.
In reality, I guess she didn't know any different.
As far as my parents knew, I'd just gotten over my 'hanging around the boys' phase. I couldn't tell them my brother's best friend not only turned me down, but ruined me in ways that would break their hearts.
I guess I could, actually — I wasn't sure why I never did.
At first, I was too embarrassed to admit it.
Then as time went on, it became more and more difficult to talk about.
I didn't want my brother to lose his best friend because of me.
Elliott and Jackson were like conjoined twins.
There were way too many possible complications with that surgery. And if something went wrong, I, the surgeon, was the only one to blame.
They seemed to go through life just fine stuck together, so I learned to deal with it — for Elliott.
At least, that's what I said to make myself feel better.
I knew I was refraining from picking up the scalpel because I was too scared.
I'd had plenty of opportunities to come clean, but if I brought it up after all this time, they would wonder why I'd kept it to myself for so long.
If I made one wrong move, said one wrong thing, my secret would be out.
I couldn't tell them I purposely kept my wounds open to keep myself motivated.
Because even though no one had called me chubs since that day, I never got an apology — from anyone.
And I was still angry.
"I just — I mean..." I continued, placing my palms on the table as I leaned forward. "What? I don't...why?"
"He needs a place to stay," Mom said calmly as she shrugged.
