Chapter 55: The Truth

Tuli

I’d holed up in my room shortly after Kiara handed me the ice pack. I wanted to stay hidden until Jayce was gone, even though I knew that wasn’t really an option.

So I just bided my time until Kiara was done grilling him.

There was a knock on my door while I was engrossed in a book. “Come in,” I called out.

The door creaked open and Megan stepped in. She was holding a bandage wrap. “Brought this for you.”

She settled down on the bed and I extended my hand to her. With a gentle touch, careful not to cause me any more discomfort, she started to wrap my hand.

“So,” she began after a while, “Jayce is Adam.”

“Trust me,” I replied, “I’m as shocked as you are.”

“Well, if you weren’t, I wouldn’t be here wrapping your hand, would I?”

I shook my head, watching as she finished up the bandaging and secured it with a safety pin. She then looked at me, her face devoid of any humor.

“Are you still planning to tell him about the baby?”

I let out a sigh. “Can we not talk about the baby right now? I just had a major revelation.”

“All the more reason to tell him. You’re upset that he didn’t tell you the truth, right? You can’t do the same to him.”

I shot her a glare. “Are you siding with him?”

She quickly raised her hands in defense and shook her head. “No, Tuli. I just don’t want this to blow up in your face like it did in his. I’m not saying he’d hit you or anything, but if you want the baby to have a father, it would be a good idea to tell him the truth, and soon.”

I huffed. “I’m not telling him anything until he explains himself.”

She pursed her lips and nodded, rising from the bed. “Alright.”

Then she left and I let out a deep breath.

She wasn’t going to let me off the hook. But I had the right to keep this information from him for now, didn’t I? I hadn’t lied about who I was to people I cared about.

I switched on the TV and started watching ~That ‘70s Show~. About halfway through the episode, there was another knock at my door.

I was sure it was Jayce this time. “Come in,” I muttered.

The door opened and there he was. His eye was already starting to bruise and a small part of me felt a pang of guilt. Had I overreacted?

I shook my head and returned my attention to the TV as he walked in and took a seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him survey the room, taking in the changes.

“It’s changed so much,” he murmured. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I haven’t seen this room in ten years.”

“Yep,” I responded.

“Can you please stop watching TV and look at me?”

I grabbed the remote, switched off the TV, and glared at him.

“Okay, I could do without the glaring, but at least you’re looking at me.”

I didn’t respond, I just held his gaze and waited. He scratched his head.

“I’m not really sure where to start.”

“You could start by explaining why you stopped talking to me shortly after you left.”

He bit his lip and nodded.

“So. I finally settled into school and my new home, but I was miserable. I missed you and Daniel, and I didn’t make many friends at my new high school. You remember the emo phase?”

I nodded.

“I was bullied for that. And to make things worse, my stepdad was beating my mom. He’d been doing it even before we moved, but eventually I just started acting out. I skipped school, started smoking and drinking, hung out with the wrong crowd. I did anything to get noticed. I got caught up in it.”

My heart ached at the thought of his mom being abused by his stepdad. I’d had no idea. “Why didn’t you tell me about that?” I asked.

“You had enough on your plate,” he replied evenly. “I didn’t want to add to your worries.”

“You started ignoring me, Jayce,” I said. “You broke my heart. I thought I could trust you, and then you left. A relationship can’t work without communication.”

“I know. It was a bad decision on my part, and I’m sorry.”

“So when did you come back?”

“After my mom died. You didn’t hear about that, did you?”

I shook my head.

“My stepdad beat her and she died from her injuries.”

I gasped in shock. His wonderful, beautiful mother. I placed my hand on his and squeezed.

“I came home from school and found her on the couch. She wasn’t moving. I called the police and nearly got myself killed.”

He shook his head.

“But I had started working out, so I managed to beat him up pretty bad in self-defense. The cops arrived and arrested him, and as far as I know, he’s still in prison.”

“I hope he’s suffering,” I said coldly. I had no sympathy for people who abused their partners.

“After that, Janelle and I moved back here. We were both too miserable to stay in California. I wanted to come and see you, but I was scared you wouldn’t want to see me. It was stupid of me to chicken out like that. I put you through a lot.”

My hand remained on top of his, though I didn’t do anything else.

“So then I started college. I stayed in the dorms and rarely came home. Janelle had to come visit me, and she wasn’t very happy about it. Especially because she got married and was pregnant with my niece.

“But that’s when I met Brooklyn. She was stunning, and I fell for her hard. It was a shock when she returned my feelings, considering I’d reverted back to my nerdy self, complete with glasses.

“We were together for two years before I proposed. And well, you know the rest,” he finished, sighing.

I nodded.

“I did come to your graduation. And I was taken aback. You’d transformed into this gorgeous woman. Suddenly, being your big brother didn’t seem so appealing. I intended to say hello, but I chickened out and left. Not before Daniel gave me a piece of his mind, though.”

My eyebrows knitted together. “Daniel saw you?”

He nodded. I frowned.

“Well, Daniel’s in hot water now, too,” I muttered, preparing to rise from the bed.

Jayce caught my uninjured wrist. “It wasn’t his fault. I made him promise not to tell you.”

“He didn’t have a gun to his head. And by the way, this doesn’t let you off the hook.”

He gently pulled, coaxing me to sit back down. “I know. That’s why I stopped you from leaving.”

~Damn him. He still knows how to make my heart flutter, even when I’m mad at him.~

“So I divorced Brooklyn and threw myself into my studies. I wanted to be an English teacher, so that’s what I pursued.

“The dean was impressed with my work and offered me an internship as a teaching assistant. I worked with them for four years while I earned my MFA. Then, at the start of this year, I applied for an assistant professorship at your school, and they gave me the job. That party at my house was sort of a celebration.

“I invited my old college friends and told them to bring whoever they wanted. I guess one of them knew Megan, because you two showed up. I swear, it was the weirdest coincidence,” he said, shaking his head.

“So why didn’t you say anything?” I grumbled. “You snapped at me to watch where I was going.”

He blushed. “Well, you caught me off guard. I was afraid you’d recognize me. I wanted to keep my distance. But then I saw that jerk trying to attack you and I couldn’t just stand by. So I stepped in. Then I realized you didn’t recognize me after he left.”

I frowned. “You know, this was all pretty shitty of you.”

He blinked. I got up from the bed.

“You take my virginity, but you don’t consider how I’d feel when I found out you were Adam all along. That’s not how I pictured our reunion.

“To be used and then discarded. You’ve shattered my trust in you again. Do you have ~any~ idea how much that hurts?”

“I…I didn’t see it that way,” he mumbled.

“I don’t even know what to call you anymore,” I said, exasperated.

“My mom named me Adam, but after she passed away, I didn’t want to use that name anymore. It just didn’t feel right. Jayce is my middle name.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” I muttered. “Now, please leave.”

His eyes widened. “Tuli, please give me another chance. I won’t mess up again, I promise.”

He rose from the bed. “You wanted to know about my tattoo, right? Well, here.”

He pushed his hair aside, revealing a red tulip.

“I got it after high school graduation. Even though I stopped talking to you, you were never far from my thoughts. You’ve always meant so much to me.”

He dropped to his knees and desperately reached for my hands. “So please, please forgive me.”

He tried to kiss my hand, but I pulled away.

“Jayce,” I whispered, holding back tears, “none of this—the story, nothing—means I can just forgive and forget. I need space. Please leave. I’ll talk to you when I’m ready.”

He looked at me sadly. “For how long?”

“I don’t know. We’ll see.”

He lowered his head, turned, and left.

When the door closed, I collapsed on the bed. I didn’t even have the energy to cry.