In the end, I took Maggie’s advice.

It had been hours, anyway, since I left Seth in that cafe. The sun had gone down. And I hadn’t heard a word from anyone.

If Seth had told the band right away, like I advised him to, I would’ve heard something by now.

“Nothing?” I asked Maggie for like the dozenth time as we both checked our phones.

She shook her head. “Sorry, hon.”

Moments later, Brody knocked on the door. I’d messaged to let him know where I was. I’d also apologized for getting caught up and missing dinner. He’d come straight over like I’d asked him to, and when Maggie let him in his eyes cut straight to me where I was sitting on the couch.

“Were you leaving?” he demanded as he came thundering over. His face looked slightly windburned from racing here on his bike, and he looked off-put… frazzled. I’d worried him again.

Guess my little note with all the hearts didn’t cut it.

“I wasn’t—”

“You’re not leaving.”

“No,” I said calmly. “I wasn’t leaving.”

“You want me to fight for you?” His voice was rising, like I hadn’t even spoken. “This is me, fighting. You are not fucking leaving.”

Shit. He was really wound up, and that stupid inability to get my thoughts out of my mouth whenever he was around, and pissed at me, kicked in, and I started struggling to find the words to defend myself—when Maggie cut right in.

“Just shut up and listen,” she said. “I’ll put her in my car and drive her to the airport myself if you wanna keep acting like a crazy deranged bear with a firecracker up its ass.”

That got Brody’s attention. I kind of doubted Maggie laid into him like that very often. Or ever.

He stood back, clawed a hand through his hair and took a breath. Then he shot Maggie, who was still hovering between us, a dark look.

“I’ll just… head out for a while. Take your time.” She threw me a look and pointed at her phone, which I took to mean, Message me if you need that ride to the airport.

Then she vanished.

Brody shed his jacket, rubbed a hand over his face and sat next to me on the couch.

“We need to talk,” I said softly.

“Yeah,” he said, blue eyes locking onto mine. He took hold of my hand and held it tight against his thigh. “So, talk.”

* * *

I talked.

I told him everything.

And I started at the beginning.

I told him about how it felt after my mom died. I told him about the crushing weight of the loss of her, after already losing my dad. The dark despair and powerlessness I’d felt.

I told him how it felt to be the kid sister, the good girl, always following everyone else’s rules, doing my best to keep everyone smiling while I felt like I was dying inside.

I told him how it felt to be cared for and protected by my brother, and Jude, and Zane, and by all my brother’s friends growing up. By him; Brody.

And by Seth.

How it felt to be guarded and policed and so protected, so loved, so cherished that I was treated like a princess. That I thought I had to act like one, pretty and happy and shiny and perfect, to deserve that love.

And the toll it had taken on me to act that way when inside, I felt anything but perfect.

How it felt to be told I couldn’t stay out late, couldn’t date, couldn’t drink, when everyone around me was doing just that. How it felt to be left out of the party, when all I really wanted was a grand distraction from all my ugly feelings. A distraction from myself.

I told him about the first time I did drugs to find that distraction. About the first time Seth gave me pot, when no one else would.

I told him about the next time, and the next. About the times I’d sneak out of Dolly’s house in the middle of the night to hang out with Seth and smoke up. About the parties Seth took me to when Jesse and Dolly thought I was home in bed.

I told him about the first time pot turned into pills. How the highs got higher, more frequent, and then the lows got lower in-between.

I told him about how the need for a distraction turned into a desire to get high. How my guilt over lying to Jesse and Jude and Zane and Dolly and him about where I was and what I was doing and who I was doing it with just fed the darkness inside me.

I told him about the other lies I’d told. How I’d told my brother I was at modeling jobs when I was getting high. How I told him I was sleeping over at a girlfriend’s house when I was out all night with Seth.

And I told him. I told him what happened when I got scared Seth might stop giving me drugs. Because he’d never asked me for money to pay for them. He liked me, and he gave them to me freely. Except they weren’t really free, because Seth had feelings for me.

I knew that, and I used it.

I told him how, when I saw him with Christy, in my messed-up state, I’d turned to Seth for comfort, and I’d crossed that line I never should’ve crossed with him, because I didn’t love Seth.

Then I told him about Seth introducing me to MDMA.

“You did ecstasy with Seth?”

Those were the first words out of his mouth.

I could see the conclusion he was drawing in his head, and he wasn’t wrong.

“Yes. I did ecstasy with Seth.”

Then I told him the rest of it.

I told him about the first time I slept with Seth so he’d keep giving me pills.

“Please understand. At that point, I would’ve done pretty much anything if I thought it would make me feel good. I just wanted to feel better. But having sex with Seth didn’t make me feel better. In the end, it made me feel worse. I saw what it was doing to him… and I was so hurt over what was happening—or, what wasn’t happening—with you, and whenever I felt worse… I wanted to get high.”

I told him, and I didn’t cry. I’d shed more than enough tears over all of it over the years, and I wasn’t going to cry about it now. The time for crying, and lying, and running from the truth was done.

So I kept talking.

I told him about the next time I had sex with Seth when we got high, and the time after that. I told him how Seth told me he loved me. I told him how I loved him, Brody, but he was with Christy, and I was so sure I’d fucked everything up, and I wasn’t strong enough to give up the drugs, or ask anyone for help, and how all my secrets and lies and pain twisted me up inside until I couldn’t stand myself.

I told him, for the first time, why I ran away that last night I saw him, during that break in the tour.

“I saw Seth that night, too. He cornered me and he was all fucked up. I knew he was doing a lot of coke then; I didn’t even know what else, but I knew he was in bad shape. He said he wanted to be with me. He wanted me. He wanted… what we had before. I told him I couldn’t do it anymore. When he pressed me on it… I told him. I told him I was in love with you.” I could barely look at Brody as I said it. The shame of it was crushing, the regret, that I’d never told him how much I loved him. I’d only told Seth. “I told him I loved you and he called me a whore. And I felt like a whore, Brody. I’d let him fuck me for drugs when I was sixteen. It went on, off and on, for almost two years. I never told anyone what was happening. I just let it happen. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about myself anymore. I just wanted the pain to stop. The thing was, I just got more pain.”

I looked at Brody, feeling shaky. Through it all he’d sat next to me, his thigh pressed to mine, holding my hand, barely breathing. When I saw his face now, his blue eyes dark and storming, I could see the force of his anger, barely restrained. I could see it rising in him, like a tidal wave about to crash and smash everything in its path. And for once I saw it for what it was. It was not anger aimed at me.

“He was struggling,” I said softly. “He said he was in love with me, and—”

“He raped you,” he said quietly; deadly quiet.

“No. It wasn’t like that—”

Brody stood abruptly. “You’re telling me you had sex with Seth so he’d give you drugs. For two fucking years. Behind all our backs.”

I stood to face him. “He didn’t force me. I wanted—”

“Like hell he didn’t. He took advantage of you.”

Then he turned away, like he couldn’t even look at me anymore.

I got up close behind him, wanting to wrap my arms around him, but I didn’t.

What if he pushed me away?

I didn’t know what else to say to him. I didn’t want to make it worse. I just wanted him to understand.

“I didn’t run away from you, Brody. I didn’t run away from Seth, either. I was running from what I’d done to myself. I wasn’t that girl. That twisted girl who’d made so many mistakes, who felt dirty all the time and so completely lost. I wasn’t your princess either. Do you understand? I just needed to find me.”

He turned back to me, his eyes shining with tears. “And did you find that? Did you find what you were looking for when you left?”

“No.” I shook my head, hugging myself. “I got clean. Things got worse before they got better, but I got clean. It took a few years to totally stop with the pills, to stop thinking I needed uppers or painkillers to deal with my life. But it was what I had to do. I’ll never regret that part.” I sighed. “I was terrified of going on tour with the band, Brody. I’m not going to say there weren’t temptations everywhere I went. There was plenty of partying in the life I chose; but going on tour…. I just couldn’t go on tour with Seth. I needed to distance myself from him. Not because he was awful to me. Because he was tied up in my drug use, and I knew it would be one party after another. I don’t know where I would’ve ended up if I kept on like I was. It wasn’t even the drugs… I wasn’t using every day or anything; I can’t even say for sure if I was an addict. I can still drink or smoke a joint without going over to the dark place. But the pills were different. Maybe it was the timing of it all, or my age, but I was losing myself. And I was so fucking depressed. It would’ve been the depression that killed me, just like it killed my dad. And the pills… they fueled that.” I moved a little closer to him, looking up into his face. “But no, I didn’t find what I was looking for until now. When I came back to you.”

Brody looked down at me for a moment, his eyes gleaming. Then he drew me into his arms… and the relief I felt at his acceptance was so intense, so overwhelming, I did start to cry.

“Jessa. Don’t cry.” He kissed the tears from my face. “You never did anything wrong. Please tell me you know that by now.”

I shook my head. How could he say that to me after everything I’d just confessed?

“I did everything wrong, Brody.”

“No. We did wrong. We didn’t protect you.” He held me tighter. “I didn’t protect you. I thought I was doing the right thing, giving you space. You were young, and…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Fuck me. How could I not’ve seen what was going on? All that time?”

“Don’t do that,” I told him. “Don’t blame yourself for my mistakes, Brody. I lied to you. I hid what I was doing from you and from everyone else. You guys had a lot on your plates and you were away a lot. It really wasn’t that hard to keep it a secret; I had excuses for everything back then.” I shook my head at the memories. “But no more excuses, and no more lies. I just want it to be over. And I don’t want to blame myself anymore. I’m working on forgiving myself. But with you, there’s nothing to forgive. You tried to love me and I ran away. That wasn’t your fault.”

I sighed and dropped my head against his chest, emotionally exhausted. I clung to his solid comfort, to the fact that he wasn’t walking away. That he was holding me, despite everything I’d just said.

“I just need it to be done,” I told him. “Once and for all. I need it to die, where it belongs. In the past.”