I don’t recall mentioning the mistresses. I must have, in passing maybe, without realizing it. Or maybe the guy already had his story and needed someone to corroborate it. Either way, it doesn’t matter. It was my fault the story appeared.
“I don’t remember. I didn’t think I said anything, but I must have.”
“You talked mostly about the school and the bombing?”
“The good things about the school and yes, your selflessness during the bombing. That was a story by itself, but he didn’t mention any of it. I wanted everyone to see the real you.” I smile sadly and stare at the tablecloth. “I didn’t even know the real you. I never knew you were capable of all this—the businesses, the analytical stuff, and then not flaunting it.”
The corner of his mouth rises slightly and falls. “Fledgling companies are easy to take down. I hid them on purpose so they’d have a chance.”
“You’re a lot smarter than most people recognize.”
“I’ve realized that, which is why this bothers me. If you mentioned the mistresses, you would have said it in passing, right?” I nod. “So how’d he know about the details of my parents’ relationship?”
“Another source?”
“Right, which means he flew down to Mississippi to find you.”
“That doesn't make sense either," I say, shaking my head. "This guy followed me for weeks, trying to convince me to talk about you. From what I could tell at the time, he seemed to be a local. At the very least, he was from the South.”
Jon stares off, thinking. His hands are on the table, pressing his fingertips against the fabric. He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “He had to get the information somewhere.”
“If not from me, then from where? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking there was a pissing match going on between Luke and Mom, and I got in the way.”
I want to say no, that it’s not possible, but his uncle, though crazy, would not be unjustified in blasting his sister. “Did you ask him?”
Jon’s gaze doesn’t lift to meet mine. “No. When it first happened, I thought you leaked part of my family stuff on purpose. I kept waiting for you to drop the rest, but you didn’t. Luke knew everything. He must have disclosed the parts most damaging to Mom and left out the rest.”
His voice sounds lost. His fingers have turned white from pressing them against the table so hard for so long. There’s something he thinks I know, something bad, but I don’t have any clue what it is. “Jon, I don't think I talked about the mistresses. It was my fault the entire thing happened—I won’t say it’s not. It is. I did it, and the story wouldn’t have appeared without me, but I’m not sure what you’re talking about now. You think I figured out something that I don’t know.”
Jon’s gaze lifts and locks with mine. He takes a small breath and watches me, wondering if he should trust me. He thinks I already know some dark secret, but I can’t fathom what it could be.
The silence stretches between us, so I say, “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
He considers it, sits back in his chair, and folds his arms over his chest. “I want honesty. I want all the crap between us gone. I’m tired of assuming you did this when it's possible you didn’t. And if you did do it, I want to know. As for my secrets, if you don’t know them already, you should.” He swallows hard and holds my gaze with an unnerving intensity.
“Some things are hard to talk about.”
“I know.” He doesn’t bark the words, but he doesn’t sound too pleasant either.
“Be patient with me, okay?” I ask. “I think I can tell you, but it’s not like ripping off a bandage. It’s more like stabbing myself in the heart. Ripping everything open again is not something I want to do.”
Jon’s gaze drops to the table. He nods once. “You ask first.”
I wonder how direct I should be, if I should just come out and say it. Jon folds his arms over his chest
“I don’t remember. I didn’t think I said anything, but I must have.”
“You talked mostly about the school and the bombing?”
“The good things about the school and yes, your selflessness during the bombing. That was a story by itself, but he didn’t mention any of it. I wanted everyone to see the real you.” I smile sadly and stare at the tablecloth. “I didn’t even know the real you. I never knew you were capable of all this—the businesses, the analytical stuff, and then not flaunting it.”
The corner of his mouth rises slightly and falls. “Fledgling companies are easy to take down. I hid them on purpose so they’d have a chance.”
“You’re a lot smarter than most people recognize.”
“I’ve realized that, which is why this bothers me. If you mentioned the mistresses, you would have said it in passing, right?” I nod. “So how’d he know about the details of my parents’ relationship?”
“Another source?”
“Right, which means he flew down to Mississippi to find you.”
“That doesn't make sense either," I say, shaking my head. "This guy followed me for weeks, trying to convince me to talk about you. From what I could tell at the time, he seemed to be a local. At the very least, he was from the South.”
Jon stares off, thinking. His hands are on the table, pressing his fingertips against the fabric. He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “He had to get the information somewhere.”
“If not from me, then from where? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking there was a pissing match going on between Luke and Mom, and I got in the way.”
I want to say no, that it’s not possible, but his uncle, though crazy, would not be unjustified in blasting his sister. “Did you ask him?”
Jon’s gaze doesn’t lift to meet mine. “No. When it first happened, I thought you leaked part of my family stuff on purpose. I kept waiting for you to drop the rest, but you didn’t. Luke knew everything. He must have disclosed the parts most damaging to Mom and left out the rest.”
His voice sounds lost. His fingers have turned white from pressing them against the table so hard for so long. There’s something he thinks I know, something bad, but I don’t have any clue what it is. “Jon, I don't think I talked about the mistresses. It was my fault the entire thing happened—I won’t say it’s not. It is. I did it, and the story wouldn’t have appeared without me, but I’m not sure what you’re talking about now. You think I figured out something that I don’t know.”
Jon’s gaze lifts and locks with mine. He takes a small breath and watches me, wondering if he should trust me. He thinks I already know some dark secret, but I can’t fathom what it could be.
The silence stretches between us, so I say, “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
He considers it, sits back in his chair, and folds his arms over his chest. “I want honesty. I want all the crap between us gone. I’m tired of assuming you did this when it's possible you didn’t. And if you did do it, I want to know. As for my secrets, if you don’t know them already, you should.” He swallows hard and holds my gaze with an unnerving intensity.
“Some things are hard to talk about.”
“I know.” He doesn’t bark the words, but he doesn’t sound too pleasant either.
“Be patient with me, okay?” I ask. “I think I can tell you, but it’s not like ripping off a bandage. It’s more like stabbing myself in the heart. Ripping everything open again is not something I want to do.”
Jon’s gaze drops to the table. He nods once. “You ask first.”
I wonder how direct I should be, if I should just come out and say it. Jon folds his arms over his chest
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