Page 27 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

He clenches his jaw and then offers a slight nod.

I reach for him instinctively but stop myself midway. "I—" The word hangs between us as I glance reflexively at the closet. In this moment, I have a choice. Do I let him confess his sins while hiding my own? Or do I finally tell the truth, regardless of the consequences?

I know what kind of person I want to be.

"I have to tell you something you're not going to like," I blurt, forcing the words out before I can reconsider. I believe in honesty, in integrity. It would kill me to pretend nothing happened.

"What is it?" His voice is wary.

"Honestly, you need to go first," I say, swallowing hard. "Tell me everything and don't hide anything. I can handle it." I'm not sure I actually can, but I need to hear it from him.

He sinks onto my bed, shoulders slumping. "Her name's Anna. I was really drunk that night of the hockey game when you had to do homework. I went to a party, texted you that I was home, and I wasn't. My brother had some shit going on, so he crashed at my place, so I went home with her."

"Anna," I repeat, the name feeling foreign on my tongue.

He nods.

"Only the one time? Do you like her?"

He turns to me. "Not like I like you, and yeah, it was the only time."

I flinch when he reaches for me, pulling away instinctively. "Thanks for telling me."

He withdraws his hand. "Your turn."

I feel my throat constricting, my breath coming in shallow bursts. I glance at the closet, pretending to zone out while my mind races, terrified that Sanderson might burst out at any moment.

"So, remember when I spilled matcha down your pants?"

He grins at the memory. "Yeah."

Heat rushes to my face. Times were simple then. "I had this grand plan. I wanted to go out to lunch with you, watch a movie, and then end up at your place."

"Okay?" His expression is curious, uncomprehending.

"But then you needed to change your pants, and I chickened out and ran."

He watches me intently, waiting for me to continue.

"I wanted to sleep with you," I whisper, the admission sounding ridiculous aloud. "So, I went with plan B, which was to pretend I had homework to skip the hockey game. You know I don't really care about hockey." I glance at the closet, hating that Sanderson is hearing all of this. "I took an ‘everything’ shower. I really got ready for you. I wore lingerie, and I went to your place right after you texted me that you were home."

Realization begins to dawn on his face, his eyes widening. "What?"

My stomach sinks as I stare at my hands. I remind myself that the truth matters, that lies are for people who are insecure, immature, afraid. I'm afraid, but I'll say it even if my voice shakes. The truth isn’t always easy. It was an honest mistake.

The tears come hot and fast now. "I was so embarrassed to make the first move. I knew you wanted to have sex, and I know I kept pushing you away. I was scared."

"Where does this story end, Hannah? Because I wasn't in my fucking room that night." He stands abruptly, covering his mouth with his hand. "What happened next?" he asks, visibly trying to calm himself.

"I wanted to sleep withyou," I mumble. "I thought you were asleep in your bed, and…"

"And?" he demands, hands now on his hips as he looms over me.

"And I didn't know it wasn't you until…" My breath hitches in my throat, the words refusing to fall out. I feel myself starting to hyperventilate.

Cade inhales deeply. "Are you fucking serious?" He presses a hand to his forehead. "What the fuck, Hannah? Are you fucking telling me…"

He can’t say it out loud either.

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