Page 174 of Say Yes to the Nemesis

And there it is. The real issue. Not Ryan’s reputation or my moving too fast or any of the other surface-level concerns Jay’s been voicing. The real problem is that Jay is scared of losing me.

“I am pulling away,” I say quietly. The words feel both terrifying and liberating to say out loud.

Jay flinches like I physically hit him. “Why?”

“Because I need space, Jay. Not because I don’t love you, but because I’ve spent my whole life being Jay Rustin’s little sister. I don’t know who I am outside of that.”

“You’re Wren. You’re brilliant and funny and kind and?—”

“In your shadow,” I interrupt. “I’ve been in your shadow my whole life. In high school, I was the girl whose brother was theInsta influencer. At work, I was the girl whose brother knew everyone in the industry.”

The words come pouring out of me now, years of suppressed frustration and resentment that I’ve never let myself fully acknowledge.

“Do you know what it’s like to walk into a room and have people light up when they realize who my brother is? To have every conversation eventually circle back to you and your career and your achievements?”

I’m standing now, though I don’t remember getting up. Jay looks stricken.

“To feel like I’m just an extension of you instead of my own person?”

“Damn, Wren,” Jay says quietly. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Because I never told you. Because I was scared that if I stopped being the supportive little sister, you wouldn’t need me anymore. And if you didn’t need me, then who was I?”

I sink back onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. “Remember when I got accepted to that summer internship at NBC when I was in college? The one in New York?”

“Of course. You were so excited.”

“And do you remember what the first thing you said was when I told you?”

Jay thinks for a moment, then his face falls. “I asked if you knew anyone there. If you needed me to make some calls.”

“Right. Because even when I accomplished something on my own, your first instinct was to take care of it for me. To fix it or improve it or make it better somehow.”

“I was trying to help.”

“I know you were. But Jay, do you have any idea how that made me feel? Like my own achievements weren’t enough. Like I couldn’t be trusted to handle things on my own.”

“That’s not what I meant…”

“I know that’s not what you meant. But that’s what happened. Over and over again, for years.”

We sit in silence for a moment, both of us processing. I can see Jay trying to reconcile the version of our relationship that exists in his head with the reality I’m describing.

“I never wanted you to feel small,” he says finally.

“I know. But I did. I felt like I only existed in your spotlight’s shadow.”

“You’re notjust usefulto me at all. You’re family. That’s different.”

“I know you love me. But love isn’t enough if it comes with conditions.”

“What conditions?”

“That I stay the same. That I don’t grow or change or want things that make you uncomfortable. That I keep letting you make decisions for me because it makes you feel needed.”

Jay is quiet for a long time. I can see him struggling with everything I’ve just said. Finally, he looks up at me with tears in his eyes.

“I don’t know how to be your brother without taking care of you.”