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I miss my mom.
As pathetic as it is, Iwantmy mom.
“He wanted to kill me,” I cry, the reality of the past few days finally crashing down on me. “He’s hit me before, but he’s never gone that far.” I sniff back my heartache, try to settle my tears. “He wanted to kill me,” I repeat, “and I don’t know what to do, because the judge… the judge…”
Connie pulls away as Lana strokes my back, saying, “Let’s sit down, okay?”
“No, it’s okay.” I shake my head. “I should go. I’m sorry for ruining your dinner.”
“No,I’msorry, Jace,” Lana says, her voice cracking with emotion. I realize she’s crying too, harder than I am, and I don’t know why. “I’m so sorry I let you down.” She glances over at Connie, who’s wiping the tears off her cheeks.
“We both let you down,” Connie agrees. “Your mother was like a sister to us, and we should’ve done more for you, Jace. All this time, we should’ve been there. We should’ve…” she trails off when her emotions get the better of her, and I shake my head. This isn’t their fault. How could it be?
“I pushed you away,” I admit.
“You were achild,” Lana says. “It was our responsibility, and we failed you. Please sit, talk to us, let us help you now… We owe you that much.”
I look between the two women in front of me, my chest aching, but my heart…
My heartbeggingto heal.
Somehow.
Some way.
Then I face Jonah, his eyes red from his withheld tears. “You’re my brother, Jace,” he croaks out. “You always have been.”
My lungs expand at his words, and I glance around the room—at the three sets of eyes all pleading to help me. I cave in to their wants. To my needs. “There’s something wrong with my grandpa,” I tell them. “And I don’t know what to do…”
72
Jace
“Elastigirl,” Jonah says out of nowhere.
I narrow my eyes into the darkness. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”
A low light illuminates in his bedroom when he grabs his phone, taps it a few times, then rolls over to show me.
I’m on a pull-out bed on the floor of his bedroom, while he lies in his.
After telling Lana and Connie everything, Connie suggested I stay, spend the night in Jonah’s room, likebefore. They all looked so hopeful, Jonah especially, and so I agreed. We ate dinner in his room while the rest of the family continued theirs at the table, and then we played video games until his dad told us it was time for bed. We’reeighteen. And, besides Harlow telling me the light from my Switch was keeping her up, I can’t remember the last time anyone told me to go to bed.
I take his phone from him and look at the screen—at an image of a cartoon girl in a red and black spandex suit, posing with her hands on her hips. “What about her?”
“First boner I ever got.”
“What the fuck?” I chuckle, the sound so unfamiliar, even to my own ears. It feels strange to laugh, given the night I’ve had, but it also feels… right. I think being able to share my thoughts and worries with people—people more experienced in life—helped a lot. I feel lighter somehow. Like there’s less burden on just my shoulders alone.
Jonah takes back his phone. “We missed out on so much over the years, I figured I’d catch you up on all the important details.”
“Got it.” Linking my fingers behind my head, I stare up at the ceiling, try to get comfortable.
“Jane Vicente. First kiss. Eighth grade. She tasted like pickles. I didn’t like it.”
I roll to my side, wait for him to continue.
“First time fooling around? Tenth grade. Amelia Blanco. She touched me over my jeans. I touched her over her shirt.”