Page 59 of Exposing Colorado

Eleven steps.

That's how long it takes for me to pace a line from my kitchen sink to my front door.

Over and over. Back and forth.

I don’t even know how long I've been at this. I could check my phone and look at the time I texted Devon, but I won't. That exchange is already burned into my memory.

Me:

We need to talk.

Dev:

Who this be?

Me:

Logan

I'd followed up that message with my address. He'd only responded once.

Dev:

Be there in a bit.

How long is a bit? Hours? It feels like hours. My shoulders ache from how tense they are, fists clenched and ready like I'm ten seconds from putting them through a wall. The longer I pace, the angrier I feel.

At him.

At myself.

At the whole damn world for making me live a lie I didn’t even know I was telling.

Eleven steps one way. Turn. Eleven steps back.

Devon knew this whole time. He fucking knew. Why hadn’t he said anything?

A knock sounds at the door, too light and calm for the storm brewing inside of me.

Ripping it open, I grab Devon by the front of his hoodie and yank him inside so hard he nearly trips. “What the fuck⁠—”

“How long?” I bite out, shoving him against my kitchen table so hard that dirty dishes and takeout boxes fall to the ground.

Dev raises himself on his elbows, glaring at me with flared nostrils. He doesn't speak, just stares with a heaving chest, and it pisses me the hell off.

“How long did you know?” I roar, my voice breaking.

There's another pause as he looks away, jaw tight. A new piercing between his brows reflects off the fluorescent lights above. “Spring break, when I visited after the triplets were born. They told me then. Guess your mom felt guilty. Postpartum depression or some shit.”

Reaching out to grip the counter, I steady myself against a wave of nausea. “You've known the truth… for eight fucking years, and you're only telling me now?”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do?” Devon scrambles to his feet. “Ruin the only family you had? It wasn’t my secret to tell. You were just a kid, Logan.”

I slam my hand on the table between us. “I was sixteen! Old enough to know that wanting you made me feel like a goddamn freak!”

Silence crashes down around me. Shock ripples over Devon’s features. I hadn't meant to say those words out loud, but now that they've been shouted into the atmosphere, there's no taking them back. Every sick thought I've ever had, every shameful and sinful fantasy boils to the surface, spilling out like poison, burning my throat.

“You let me go years thinking I was broken,” I snarl, placing my palms on his chest to shove him against the wall. “I hated myself, thinking there was something wrong with me. Thinking I wanted my fucking uncle!”