Page 35 of Her Ex-Husband's Brother

“When was my mom here?” I ask, bewildered. Just how many secrets has he been keeping from me?

I might be a lot of things, but I’ve always been scrupulously honest and forthcoming.

Jake waves a hand, back still to me. “When she got evicted last year.”

“She got evicted! Why didn’t you tell me!”

He whips back around to me, eyes accusatory. “That’s hardly the point now. You fucked my brother!”

“Well I didn’t know he was your brother!” I throw my hands in the air.

“It’s messed up that you could walk out on our marriage of nine years and fuckanybody, don’t you get that? How could you do that to me? Tous?”

I lift my hands in a stop gesture, if only to help calm myself down. Calm down, Lennon. He’s just hurt right now.

He has a right to his feelings.

And I have a right to be able to afford a roof over my head.

“Can we talk about the bank accounts,” I say, pivoting.

He has the grace to look uncomfortable.

“I need access to my money, Jake. It’s my money too. I have nothing right now. I can’t buy groceries. Or even check into a hotel.”

“Well then, come back home where you belong.”

“Jake, I?—”

He lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll find it in my heart to forgive your sins. I already talked to Pastor Sean about couples counseling and he said he’ll find space to fit us in.”

Pastor Sean? He’s talked to Pastor Sean and is ready to forgive me?

Rage at his audacity lights through me.

I stop and take a breath. Stay calm or it will just shut down the conversation because I’mgetting too emotional.

I take another breath so I don’t lose my shit.

“We were always best friends first,” I try. “Before everything else. And I want us to be able to do this the right way. Like two people who actually care about each other.”

I look at him, pleading. “We had a good marriage. I still care about you. So please, as your friend, I’m asking. Unfreeze the accounts.”

He’s quiet for a long moment.

Then: “You could just come home.”

“Jake—”

“I’m not saying forever. Just— Come home, and we can talk about everything properly. If you need space, or whatever, fine. I’ll give you that. But I don’t think you should be out there alone right now.”

His voice is so reasonable. It’s the voice he uses when he’s beingverypatient with me. “You’ve had a huge shock and you’re not thinking clearly. If you just come home, we can figure out?—”

“I am thinking clearly,” I say, temper boiling just under the surface.

“I know you think that.”

I breathe.