Page 89 of Absolution

“Jem-” Iris tries, but she’s cut off.

“Shut up, Jemma,” Levi snaps this time. Firmer. Sharper than I’ve ever heard him.

I sit up straighter. “Who told you that?”

Jemma looks away. “No one. We heard Mom. Talking to Aunt Marianne. She said she didn’t think you’d give her the divorce that easy.”

She pauses. Then looks at me again, eyes hard. “She broke us. And now she’s dating.”

Now all three of them are watching me. Waiting. Like the truth is a choice I have to make in real time. And I know,I know, this is the moment where I could protect my image. I could stay the good guy. Let them blame Jackie.

But I won’t.

I can’t let history repeat itself.

I take a breath and say, steady, “The reason your mom asked for the divorce… is because I cheated on her.”

They all just stare at me.

“I hurt her. A lot.” My voice cracks, but I don’t stop. “And she didn’t deserve it. She gave everything to this family. To you. To me. And I broke that. She didn’t break our family. I did.”

No one moves. Not even Levi.

“I’m not proud of it. I wish I could undo it, but I can’t. What Icando is be honest. And show up. And love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

Jemma’s jaw is tight. Iris is blinking fast like she’s holding something back. Levi doesn’t look away. Doesn’t flinch. Just nods slowly.

“I asked her not to tell you,” I add. “I wanted to tell you myself, but I was scared… I needed time. And your mom… she gave me that time. That’s the kind of mom she is. Stronger than you know.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jackie

Opening the front door, I’m instantly hit by the smell of garlic and cheese. Warm, familiar, heavy. For a second, I think I’ve walked into the wrong house.

I follow the scent into the kitchen and stop short.

Kyle’s in my apron, my actual apron, tied over his office shirt and pants, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He’s rinsing a pan in the sink, eyes focused, jaw tight. The oven is on. Dishes are stacked neatly beside him. The table’s been wiped down.

He turns when he hears me. “Hey,” he says, trying to smile.

“Hey,” I reply. “Smells good?”

I say it like a question, because I’m confused. He’s not supposed to be here anymore, not cooking in this kitchen, not doing dishes like he never left.

He dries his hands on a towel, eyes darting. “Sorry, I just… I couldn’t sit idle anymore.”

“What happened?”

He exhales slowly, looking down at the towel in his hands. “I, uh. I told them. About the divorce. Why it happened.”

“Oh.” I shift my weight, unsure. “What… what did they say?”

“I don’t know what I expected,” he says, voice cracking. “But the second I told them, it was like… I could see them losing respect for me. Right there. In their eyes.”

He swallows hard. “They went upstairs. Haven’t come down since.”

I step forward instinctively, but he holds a hand up.

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