Page 82 of Breaking
Troy nodded; his jaw tight. "I thought it was the smart move at the time. But looking back... it was the worst thing I could have done."
Jenna swallowed hard but said nothing.
"And when you told me you were pregnant... I shut down." His voice was quieter now, raw. "I wasn't thinking straight. I panicked. But after I calmed down, I realized something, this would bind you to me. And I wanted that. So, I started planning how to present it to my family."
Jenna's expression hardened slightly. "By the time you came back, I had moved in with Sasha."
He nodded. "And when I went to see you, Sasha wouldn't even let me near you. She told me she would make sure you saw how useless I was. That she and you were sisters and survivors, and you didn't need me." He exhaled sharply. "You never heard that conversation."
Jenna shook her head slowly. "No. I didn't."
"It stuck to my mind, what she said. I know Sasha was trying to protect you," Troy admitted. "But it felt like she was trying to erase me. And I didn't handle it well. I thought she would convince you to leave me."
Silence stretched between them. Then, hesitantly, Troy reached into his wallet and pulled out a small, worn envelope. He carefully opened it, letting the rings slide onto the palm of his hand. They both watched as the tiny diamond twinkled in the low light.
"It cleaned me out to buy it back then," he said quietly. "Would you take it back?"
Jenna looked at the rings but didn't touch them. "Not yet."
He swallowed hard and nodded, accepting the answer even as it stung. He put them back in his wallet.
"What about Lila?" she asked next.
Troy ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Lila was Mack's little sister. She always tagged along when we were kids. When sheapplied for the project manager's job, hiring her seemed logical. She was brilliant-she had the experience we needed." He rubbed his hands together. "She shared my interests and talked coherently about things most people didn't even know existed. Like optimization algorithms in neural networks, microprocessor design intricacies, niche tech concepts that most people nod along to without understanding. I liked that she got it." He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought she admired my brain, and I was flattered. It felt good to be understood in that way, and I let myself believe that was all it was."
Jenna snorted. "Nope, she just wanted to get into your pants."
A small, reluctant chuckle escaped him. "Yeah. I get that now."
Jenna shook her head, a ghost of amusement flickering across her face. "You didn't realize how much she disrespected me."
Troy's expression darkened. "No. I didn't." He hesitated before continuing. "During dinners with my family and friends, I tend to... switch off. And when I say switch off, I really switch off. I focus on the conversations that make sense to me, and I tune out the rest. I didn't realize that was encouraging their attitude. I didn't see that it was making the kids think I didn't respect you." He clenched his fists. "You handled them so well, I guess... I've been sleeping on my job."
Jenna's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't argue.
Troy took a steadying breath. "I can't change the past. I can't change how awful my parents were to you. But all I can say is... I will not let it happen again. If you trust me this one last time."
Jenna studied him for a long moment. "Tell me about your childhood," she said. "How your parents dealt with you being autistic."
Troy exhaled slowly, rubbing his palms together, a familiar self-soothing motion. "They didn't handle it," he admitted. "They tolerated it. I was the 'odd one'-too blunt, too rigid, too obsessed with things that didn't matter to them. My mother wanted to fix me. My father wanted to mould me. But I never fit into either of their expectations."
He hesitated before continuing, his fingers tapping against his knee. "I remember once, when I was about nine, I wanted a dog. Mack had a golden retriever-Scout. He was the friendliest, happiest dog I'd ever seen. I loved how Mack always had him by his side, like they understood each other without words. I begged my parents for a dog for months. I even made a list of reasons why it would be good for me, how it could help me with routines and emotions. My tutor helped with that."
Jenna watched him carefully. "What did they say?"
Troy huffed a quiet, humourless laugh. "My mother told me I was too obsessed, that I didn't understand what it took to care for another living thing. My father said dogs were a distraction, and that I should focus on things that actually mattered. Then, just to drive the point home, they got me a stuffed dog and told me to 'pretend.'" He swallowed, his jaw tightening. "It was one of the first times I realized how little they understood me."
Jenna's expression softened, but she said nothing, letting the moment settle before she finally murmured, "I'm sorry, Troy."," she said.
He swallowed. "I learned to mask early. To suppress the way I processed things. The way I saw the world. And maybe that's why I missed so much with you."
Jenna didn't look away. "You see the world differently, Troy. I am beginning to understand a little." She hesitated, then took a slow breath. "I have to admit, I felt a little envious of the bond Lilly and Max had with you. I couldn't understand why I felt left behind." She sighed, shaking her head. "But that was partially my fault. I never told you how I felt, just expected you to understand. And now, I realize that must have been very difficult for you to do."
Troy's expression softened as he took in her words. "That was never my intention," he said quietly. "I always wished my mother was more like you. And yes, if you don’t clearly tell me, a lot gets lost in translation."
He met her gaze. "So... will you give me a chance to prove I can do better?"
Jenna inhaled deeply, holding his gaze for a long, silent moment. Then, finally, she answered, "We'll see."
