Page 53 of The Sexy Ex's Brother
We’re not just exposing him. We’re boxing him in. If Jack finds me, if he still wants to, I’d give anything to finish this beside him. That’s the truth I carry with me. That I left to keep him safe, but I ache for the moment I get to see him again. Whatever happens next, I want us side by side.
Later, as we gather in the kitchen for a quick break, Sienna hands me a mug of tea. “You okay?” she asks, softer now that Dawson’s stepped out to take another call.
I nod slowly. “I think so. Just tired. Emotionally.”
“You don’t have to be okay every second,” she says, leaning back against the counter. “It’s been a hell of a week.”
“It’s been a hell of a year.” I offer a thin smile. “But yeah. I guess I didn’t expect to feel this… split.”
“Between wanting to win and wanting Jack?”
I glance at her, surprised by the clarity.
Sienna shrugs. “I’ve seen the way you look when someone mentions him. Like you’re flinching and hoping in the same breath.”
I sip the tea. “I love him. But I don’t know what’s waiting on the other side of this.”
“Maybe he is.”
I close my eyes, just for a second. Let that idea settle. Maybe he is.
Sienna watches me a beat longer, then lowers her voice. “You know, I used to think you were just… careful. Always weighing things. Always trying to be what people needed.”
I meet her eyes, the truth catching in my throat. “You weren’t wrong,” I say, but there’s a sting behind the words. Because admitting it means acknowledging the version of myself I once was, compliant, contained, almost complicit. It hurts to see how much I needed to be cracked open to find the person I am now.
“...But now?” Sienna smiles, just a little. “Now you don’t bend anymore. You decide. That’s who you are. It’s not about rebellion. It’s about truth.”
The words hit deeper than I expect. I look away for a second, blinking fast.
“I didn’t leave Jack because I was scared,” I say quietly. “I left because I wanted him to live. Because Derek was watching and I thought… maybe if I disappeared, he’d be safe.”
“You’re still protecting him,” she says.
“And I’d do it again.”
Silence stretches between us, warm and heavy.
“But next time,” I add, “I want to fight with him, not from a distance.”
Sienna nods slowly. “And I think he’d want that too.”
“Even if it costs everything,” I murmur.
“Especially if it means standing beside someone who finally sees you as you are.”
I stare down at my tea, emotions knotting in my throat. This is what change feels like, not just a shift, but a reckoning.
“Then let’s finish this,” Sienna says. “And give him the world you both deserve.”
28
JACK
Ipull up to the address in Brooklyn just after dusk, the sky softening into that strange blue that only exists between day and night. A tension lingers in the air, pressing against the windows of the car before I even open the door.
Rosenthal’s townhouse is wedged between two converted brownstones, nondescript except for the way my pulse picks up as I stare at it. Ari found the footage three hours ago, grainy street cam pulled from an angle no one should’ve caught, except she did. Ivy, hood up, slipping inside.
I park, step out. My shoes hit the pavement with the kind of finality that says this is it.
