Page 129 of The Revenge Game
I’m relieved because I get to delay the moment when everything between us shatters.
It feels like a stay of execution.
Apparently, I don’t need to fake being sick because Justin takes one look at my face when I answer the door and concern etches into his forehead.
“You look awful.”
“Thank you for that observation. It feels like kicking someone when they’re down.” I try to inject my usual sarcasm into my voice, but it comes out wobblier than intended.
I stumble back to my couch, pulling a blanket over me.
“I brought you soup.” He holds up a container like it’s precious cargo.
“My immune system thanks you in advance.”
His laugh hits me like a physical force. God, I’m going to miss that sound.
“At least you’re still making terrible jokes. That’s a good sign.” He studies my face. “Though you really do look pale. Maybe I should cancel?—”
“No, absolutely not. The only thing that will make me feel worse is knowing I ruined your chance at landing this client.”The truth in those words surprises me. Even now, I want him to succeed. I want the world to realize exactly how amazing this man is.
Justin puts the soup in my kitchen, then comes over to me on the couch.
He moves forward to kiss me, then obviously decides better of it, catching himself with a soft exhale that ghosts across my cheek.
“I’ll call you tonight,” he promises as he draws back.
“Okay.”
Justin pauses at the door to turn back to me.
“Love you,” he says.
“I love you too,” I reply.
I have to look away to avoid staring at Justin’s smile. The knowledge that I’m going to shatter that smile is breaking my heart.
I spend the next day scripting exactly how I’m going to tell him.
Every version of the conversation I rehearse in my head sounds more ridiculous than the last. “Hey, Justin, remember that kid you bullied in high school? Surprise!” or maybe, “So, funny story, I’ve actually been lying to you the whole time we’ve known each other!”
And my brain keeps circling back to his face when he told me he loved me—that mix of terror and determination, like someone jumping without knowing if their parachute will open.
He’s trusted me with his vulnerability, his coming out, with what happened with Bobby Ray.
Now I have to tell him I’ve been the ghost in his system this whole time, corrupting every genuine moment between us with my lies.
The cosmic joke is that in trying to make Justin feel guilty about the past, I’ve managed to make myself feel worse than any of my high school bullies ever made me feel.
At least going back to work on the twenty-ninth provides some distraction from my churning mind, although I’m aware each hour is just counting down until the end.
Justin’s coming back from his work trip tonight. I have to tell him then.
I’m such a mess at work that I barely notice when Dave bursts into the IT department wearing a unicorn onesie, having apparently lost some kind of bet with the marketing team.
I’m staring at my blank monitor screen, mentally rehearsing different versions of “Hey, Justin, funny story about high school” when Cheryl appears at my desk like an HR ninja.
“Drew, do you have a moment?” Her voice carries a careful neutrality that makes my stomach clench.
