Page 57 of The Try Line

Jase looks at me, and I realize that he's expecting me to be there, too. It fills me with an unexpected surge of emotion. "Definitely."

"Alright then, have fun with that," he says, gesturing towards the house again. Pulling his key fob out of his pocket, he unlocks his small truck and gives a short wave before taking off.

Mik and I share a look between us, his lips quirking. "That went better than expected."

"Yeah, well. We can only hope the rest of them take it anywhere near as well."

Mik scoffs and looks up at the house. He sighs deeply, gives my hand a squeeze, and then climbs the stairs. I follow, praying that we can get through this without the entire family falling apart or being disowned. At worst, at least we know the most important person in this scenario is at least somewhat comfortable, if not entirely supportive, of us being together.

Janel is sitting in the kitchen when we walk in, drinking a glass of wine. Once we're inside, she seems to think better of the seating arrangement and moves to the dining room table. But then she gets up again and moves to the living room couch. And then to a chair that faces the couch.

Both Mik and I wait in uncomfortable silence until she seems settled, and then we join her. We sit on the couch together, but leave a respectable amount of space between us. Janel eyes the space like it's to blame for her current unhappiness. Her eyes are red and puffy, and her hair is in a very uncharacteristically unkempt bun on top of her head. We wait for her to say something, to allow her to have the first and last word, but she just stares at the couch in silence.

Mik gives me a quick look, and I respond to a quick, supportive dip of my chin.

"Janel, I–"

"Don't, Mik. I don't want to hear excuses." She takes a deep breath, and it's apparent she's holding back tears. It twists me up inside that I'm responsible for her being in this state. Mik shuts his mouth and waits again, and after a few more moments of tense silence, she speaks. "I'm… understandably upset. And I don't know how long it will take me to be able to look at either of you without feeling like this." A few tears fall from her eyes, and she wipes them away, but once they start to fall, she can't seem to stem the flow. She buries her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Both Mik and I flinch towards her, instinctively wanting to comfort her.

She must sense our movement, because she throws a hand out to stop us. We give her space, allowing her to compose herself so she can get out what she needs to say.

"I'm upset, but I accept this for what it is. And I also recognize my part in this, for not accepting it back then." Her teary eyes look up at Mik, her gaze almost imploring. "I knew, but I pretended not to, because I was scared. And because I believed that getting married and being together was the right thing to do. I'm still not entirely sure it was the wrong thing, except that you've clearly been so unhappy. But we provided a good life for our son." The statement almost comes off questioning, as if she's begging for Mik to acknowledge that they didn't do everything wrong.

Mik nods and gives her a small smile, though his eyes are full of pain. "We did our best," he agrees. "And I'm proud of what we've built here—what you've built, honestly. Because I wouldn't have done any of this without you."

His eyes dart to mine again, and I give him another supportive nod. This was something we discussed this morning, a sort of repentance for our wrongdoing, to make sure that Janel has everything shecould need to move through life as she chooses. It’s honestly still a cop-out, but it’s all we have to offer.

"Which is why I think you should keep it all. Everything. I won't fight you for a single cent of our savings, the house, full ownership of the store. Whatever is in my power to turn over to you, whatever you want. It's yours. You deserve it all."

It's not what she's expecting, that much is clear. More tears fall from her wide eyes as she looks back at Mik in disbelief. I guess maybe she assumed that a divorce meant a long, drawn-out fight to protect her interests, but Mik has no interests other than making sure she and Jase are cared for. He'll still provide for Jase, with a little help from me whether he wants it or not, but he doesn't want Janel suffering because of this. She's suffering enough, coming to terms with her entire marriage imploding and her husband running off with her brother.

When it's clear there's nothing else to say, Mik goes upstairs to pack a suitcase. Janel and I sit in silence for a while, but I have some things I need to say to her, too.

"I didn't come back here expecting this to happen," I say quietly, looking down at my hands before meeting her eyes. "I'd never hurt you on purpose. I hope you know that. And I hope you know how much I love you."

"I know that," she says, sniffing. "And I'm sorry, too. I realized too late just how much I hurt you when I didn't get out of your way. Even before I got pregnant, I felt what you two had, and I was jealous."

"Do you think you'll ever forgive us?" I ask her after a long silence.

She closes her eyes and makes a sound like a cross between a scoff and a sob, and I step forward to wrap her in my arms. I hold her while she cries until we hear Mik's footsteps thumping down thestairs. The basement door opens, and his steps retreat again, probably heading to his office to gather more things.

Janel pulls away from me and wipes her hand over a wet spot on my shoulder. I put my hand over hers, flattening it over my heart.

"I love you, baby sis."

"Take care of him," she whispers before she picks up her empty wine glass and walks into the kitchen. I watch through the doorway as she fills the glass with water and gulps it down.

I back out of the way to give them privacy when Mik enters the kitchen. Most of their conversation is quiet murmurs, but as they move closer to where I'm waiting in the entryway, I overhear them talking.

"I did love you, you know," she says, her voice somewhat muffled.

"I know. And I loved you, too. Idolove you," he answers. "I'm sorry I couldn't love you the way you needed me to. I'm sorry I couldn't be the man you needed me to be. And I'm sorry I hurt you."

"I'm sorry, too," she says. "And I'll try to be okay with this. Just give me time, okay?"

"Anything you need."

When I step around the corner, he has her hugged to his chest, lips pressed to her hair. His eyes are clenched tight, the pain he's feeling evident in the lines of his face. But when he opens his eyes again, I see something deeper. I see the same hope that is taking up so much space inside me.

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