The Truth About Unspeakable Things, Emily Myers [bookstand for reading TXT] 📗

over?” I ask. I try to stay strong. Despite this, my throat cracks as I speak. “I . . .I know I kept a lot from you, but . . .I was scared,” I tell him. “I was scared for your safety, scared of losing you. And I didn’t want you to view me differently because of my past and the choice I made, the choice I regret. I just . . .I know I took it too far by using Mason,” I ramble. Tears flood my face.

“Hey, hey, Emma,” Julian says. “I’m not breaking up with you.”

“You’re not,” I choke.

“No,” Julian says, taking my face in his hands. He wipes the falling tears from my cheeks. “I don’t blame you for keeping the truth about your past a secret, not for one second. And I certainly don’t judge you for your choice in a matter that I am in no way a part of. It was your choice to make, Emma. And if you regret it, then that feeling of regret is also yours to feel. It’s not my place to condemn you or tell you how to feel.” Julian drops my gaze then.

“Mason,” I whisper. Julian nods.

“I, um . . .I said some hurtful things to my brother. And it breaks my heart that my mind immediately went to the thought of him going after you. It just shows how broken we are. And, in light of what you’ve told me, I don’t . . .I don’t know what kind of future we’ll have, what kind of future we’ll be able to have, what kind of future I’ll even want,” Julian says then.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I only made things worse.”

“No. Don’t blame yourself. The cracks in my brother and mine’s relationship predate you, and his behavior predates New Orleans.” I nod, though I find myself confused. If he doesn’t hold my choices against me, then why can’t he runaway with me?

“Julian . . .” I start.

“I can’t leave the city with you, not because I don’t want to be with you, Emma,” Julian says then. “I can’t leave the city because I’m going to face this bastard head-on.”

My brows furrow and my arms tingle. “But why?” I ask. “Why would you risk it? Why would you put yourself in danger for someone else’s fight?”

“It’s not someone else’s fight, Emma,” Julian says. “It’s yours and it’s mine.”

He looks away from me then. His jaw clenches. He clasps his hands together behind my back, pulling me closer to him.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I ask then.

My eyes scan his for the truth. He’s hiding something. I know he is. He looks down then and bites the inside of his jaw. He exhales and his eyes fill with tears. I move my hand to his hair to comfort him. What could it possibly be?

“Do you remember when I told you that my mother never knew her father, that he was some one-night stand my grandma had with a man from New Orleans?” Julian asks, his voice cracking.

“Yes,” I say. It’s hard not to blush when he speaks of his grandmother having a one-night stand. I bet she was a lively woman.

“Well,” he composes himself. “After I’d had some time to process my mom’s death, I started trying to track him down.”

My chest tightens. No. Please, don’t tell me . . .

“When Mason and I had our falling out and the opportunity to visit New Orleans arose, I knew it was my chance to find him, to get to know him, to have a family again,” he tells me.

“No,” I whisper.

Realization washes over me. And in the dim light of the recording studio, I start to see the resemblance. Julian’s pale green eyes, his dark hair, his tall, lanky physique, his humor, his intuition, his love of music. How did I not see it before?

“Mr. Turnip was my grandfather, Emma,” Julian reveals. His pale eyes fill with tears as he speaks.

I drop my head in sadness and rest my forehead against his chest. Mr. Turnip was his grandfather, and I just told him he was murdered by my psychotic ex.

“So, it’s like I said. This is my fight too,” he tells me.

Julian’s heart beats slowly within his chest. I close my eyes and listen to its rhythm. It’s the most beautiful sound in a room otherwise silent. I imagine what Mr. Turnip would’ve thought of Julian, his long-lost grandson. I imagine he’d be quite surprised considering he never even knew he had children. But he would’ve loved him. They would’ve talked about music and books and played checkers till midnight. I smile then at the strange twist of fate that brought Julian and me together.

When I moved to New Orleans and found myself living next door to Mr. Turnip, I could never have imagined how important he would become to me. He was there for me when I needed a handyman and a friend. He cooked meals when I couldn’t afford to. He helped me get a job when I’d run out of money. He was never without an interesting comment or caramel candy piece. He was my support system before I even knew what one looked like. And now, Julian has become all of those things and more for me. I don’t deserve him, but I’m thankful for him.

After a time of silence, I lift my eyes to his, moving my hands up his stomach to his neck.

“So, now what?” I ask.

Julian leans down and kisses my hair. I close my eyes in response. He pulls me tighter against him and I inhale his intoxicating scent.

“We enjoy our last night of simplicity,” he tells me then. “Tomorrow, you’ll leave and—”

“I’m not leaving,” I say then, bringing my eyes to his. “We’ve been apart for too long. I’m staying with you.”

He smiles and brushes my hair from my face. “I would insist against it, but something tells me you wouldn’t listen,” he says then.

“I wouldn’t,” I admit. We both laugh.

“Still, tomorrow things will become complicated, even more so with Mason, and we don’t know how long this fight will last,” he tells