Page 120 of Mending Hearts
Cass leans forward instinctively, as if the phone is a doorway. “Yeah?”
“Can you stay?” Rafe asks, and it’s not a rock star asking. It’s a man asking for something simple and human. “Just… until I get there?”
Cass doesn’t even hesitate. “Absolutely.”
The ridiculousness of it—Rafe asking my teammate to babysit me—should make me bristle. Instead, it makes my eyes burn.
“Thank you,” Rafe says quietly.
Cass shrugs like he isn’t affected, but his jaw is tight. “No problem.”
Rafe’s attention returns to me. “We’re going to talk tomorrow,” he says, and there’s steel under the softness now. “You, me, Eric. And Rachael.”
My stomach twists.
“We have to get ahead of this,” he continues. “We have to control what we can. You’ll talk to the GM, but not until Eric preps it. You hear me?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“And Ollie,” he adds, voice firm, “we’re not going to let them spin this into you being some kind of lying monster.”
My throat closes. He doesn’t know how much those words matter. Because the statement didn’t just expose me. It tried to rewrite me. To make my silence into a moral failing instead of a survival tactic. To make me a villain instead of a scared kid who never got a road map.
Rafe says my name again. “Ollie.”
“Yeah.”
“You agree to telling Eric and Rachael everything?”
The question lands heavy. Because for years, Eric’s asked. Carefully at first, then more directly, then with frustration that he tried to hide. And I kept dodging, kept compartmentalizing, kept pretending I could keep the truth boxed up forever.
I swallow hard. “Yes,” I say. “Yes. I agree.”
There’s relief in Rafe’s silence, like he’s been bracing for me to refuse. “Good,” he says finally. “We do it right. No more half-truths.”
My chest aches. “All right,” I whisper.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. Then, softer, like he can’t help it, “I’m with you.”
“I know,” I say, and I mean it.
We hang up. For a second, the quiet rushes back in. Cass watches me for a beat.
“You want me to punch them?” he asks flatly. “Maybe I can speak to Dylan, get them arrested for some shit. People like that are bound to have more than a few skeletons in their closets.”
I huff a laugh that comes out wrong. “Maybe later.”
He nods like he’ll pencil it in.
My phone is still lighting up with messages. My hands are still shaking. But something in me has shifted. I’m not calm or even at peace, despite Rafe’s support and knowing I’ll see him again tomorrow. Instead, determination builds in my chest.
I scroll until I find Eric’s name. I stare at it for a long second.
For years, Eric’s been asking for the truth. Now the truth has been ripped into the open without my permission, so I’m going to take it back.
I’m going to speak first. I’m going to own it.
I hit Call. The line rings, and my heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat.
