Page 121 of Broken Vows

The way Theo and Levi look so alike. The strange age gap. The way Levi shuts down whenever fatherhood comes up. The vasectomy he mentioned having ten years ago, after Theo would have been conceived. Like maybe an unexpected child had spurred that decision.

The way Levi loves that boy like it hurts, but never lets himself look too proud of it. Like there’s shame tangled up with the love. Like he’s trying to make up for something—something like ditching Theo with his mom.

When we pull into Levi’s driveway, he kills the engine and sits there for a second, staring through the windshield.

Then he hands Theo the key to their place. “Go on inside. I’m just gonna say goodnight to Carmen.”

Theo takes the key, already half-asleep and chocolate-milkshake heavy. We watch him go inside and my chest is tight with all the questions I know I shouldn’t ask.

Levi turns to me with that small smile he’s been using a lot lately. The streetlight cuts sharp shadows across his face. I know I should leave it alone. I know I should.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” I ask.

His smile drops. “No.”

“Because you can tell me things.”

“Got nothing to tell.”

Something hard moves across his face. That does it.

“Is Theo your son?”

“No.” His voice is flat. “You know how a vasectomy works, right?”

“You said you got one at twenty-eight.” My heart beats too hard. “That was ten years ago. After he was conceived.”

“He’s my brother.”

“There’s nearly a thirty-year age gap between you.”

“Mom was young when she had me.”

“And he looks exactly like you.”

“Because we’re related. That’s how genetics work.” His sarcasm is sharp enough to cut, but there’s something underneath it. Panic, maybe.

I take a breath. “I’m not trying to accuse you of anything.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You just say a lot of things that don’t add⁠—”

“Drop it, Carmen.”

“I think you’re hiding something,” I say, slipping out of the car and heading inside.

By the time I get to the door, my hands are shaking. I close it behind me, lock the deadbolt, and stand there in the quiet.

A hot shower does nothing to wash away the frustration churning inside me. I dry off, pull on my pajamas, and walk into the bedroom feeling drained and heavy.

Then I nearly jump out of my skin.

Levi is lying on the far side of my bed, staring up at the ceiling like he’s been waiting there for hours.

My hand flies to my chest. “Stop doing that⁠—”

He doesn’t look at me. For a long moment, he says nothing. Then his throat works.