Page 143 of The Revenge Game
Bobby Ray.
I think of the damage Justin’s stepfather did.
Not only to Justin, but to me and to every kid who got caught in the backdraft of his cruelty. His actions created this domino effect of pain: Justin, petrified of his sexuality, tried to be “man enough,” which led to him targeting me, resulting in me building walls so high I forgot how to let anyone see the real me.
The damage also extended to my parents, whose relationship with me suffered because I was so busy hiding things from them. Every secret I kept, every lie I told about being fine at school, every time I faked a smile at dinner, created this invisible barrier I’ve never figured out how to break down.
The damage was also done to any other kids Connor and Tanner targeted after Justin gave them implicit permission to go after the weak. How many other kids learned to make themselves smaller, to stick to the shadows?
The ripple effects of our actions always extend far beyond what we can see. It’s like dropping a stone in water and never knowing what shore feels the waves.
I’m sure Bobby Ray never realized he was programming a whole generation of kids to hide their true selves.
But the thing about programming is that you can always debug the code if there are errors. You can always write a better version.
A boat passes beneath the bridge, its horn echoing across the water. The sound startles a group of pigeons into flight, wheeling past the illuminated dome of St Paul’s, where Justin first began to open up to me about his past.
And suddenly, I know what I have to do.
I can’t undo what Bobby Ray did. I can’t rewrite our past. But I can stop letting his influence determine our future.
Because Justin Morris looked at all the damage Bobby Ray did to him and still found the courage to be real. To come out at work. To fall in love with a man despite all his fears.
He deserves someone brave enough to match his courage.
I want to respect Justin’s need for space. But if I don’t do everything possible to make this right, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what could have happened.
The class reunion is next week. Justin is doing a speech as the former class president.
I remember my reaction when I first got my invitation to the reunion, my instinctive fear response at the idea of seeing my old classmates again. I should have realized then how much I still wasn’t over everything that happened in high school.
The thought of walking those halls again had made my hands shake.
But now it’s a chance to see Justin, to talk to Justin, and I’m going to take it.
I pull out my phone with shaking fingers and send a quick message to my pilot.
Please get the jet ready to fly to Texas tonight.
My breath clouds in the cold air as I stare at the sent confirmation.
I might be terrible at revenge, but I’m not giving up on love without a fight.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Justin
For some reason, I thought coming home would help me.
But the familiar rusty water tower withGo Coyotespainted in fading letters, the Dairy Queen sign missing three bulbs but still blinking valiantly, the peeling mural of our high school mascot on the side of Joe’s Feed & Seed that looks more mangy than menacing these days don’t seem to do anything to ease my heartbreak.
It feels like someone’s replaced all my internal organs with lead weights, and every time I think about Andrew, they get heavier.
I didn’t realize heartbreak is a whole-body affair.
My mom’s tiny rental apartment smells like lavender air freshener trying to mask decades of other tenants’ cooking experiments. The small second bedroom where I’m sleeping has been turned into a craft room, with a collection of half-finished craft projects scattered across every surface. It’s like Mom is trying to piece together a new life, one glue-gun disaster at a time.
Mom keeps finding excuses to check on me, appearing in the doorway with cups of coffee I haven’t asked for, her questions careful and indirect. “The airline didn’t charge you too much forchanging your ticket, did they, honey?” and “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
