Page 155 of My Unfinished Heart

After he gathers himself for a second, he says, “Tristan is… He’s my whole world. We’ve been friends since we were five. More than friends. More than brothers.”

The nausea that went away weeks ago stirs low in my gut. I swallow a sudden excess of saliva in my mouth.

“He’s just the most amazing fucking person. I can’t even explain it,” he says, but then I guess he sees the look on my face. I feel like all the blood has left it. He holds up a hand and shakes his head, sobering suddenly. “Fuck, wait. I don’t mean I’m in love with him or anything, but he’s—God I just love him so much. I can’t imagine my life without him. I don’t want to. When I found out he was with you—” His speech halts abruptly. He wipes at his cheeks again, and he leans forward, looking at me intently. “I need you to understand something.”

“What?”

“I’m not strong the way you are. I know Mom hurt you, but she hurt me too. Bad. I don’t know if it was the same, but Tristan’s the only reason I didn’t try to kill myself years ago. The only reason.”

“I had no idea,” I whisper.

“I know.”

“But I did know you were close,” I say. “Obviously.”

Connor holds my gaze and nods. “He’s amazing, right?”

I think about all the things. Tristan’s laugh when I was horrified that he liked grapes in chicken salad. His gasp as I pressed myself inside him. His perfect use of the word besotted.

“Yes. He is.”

My brother’s lips purse, and he says, “He’s been in love with you from the first time he saw you. You’re how he knew he was gay.”

“I know,” I say again, quietly.

“I sometimes used to think he only kept being friends with me in case you came back. I haven’t always been the best friend for him.”

I need to change the subject. “Listen⁠—”

“Wait—that’s not true. I didn’t sometimes used to think it. It’s what I always thought. I kind of still do.”

“What’s your point? What are you saying?” Because it feels like another threat. Like back off, big brother, or else.

His voice is smaller when he speaks again. “I’m saying I’m sorry for getting in the way.” His tears are like glitter, sparkling down his cheeks. “I never wanted to ruin your happiness. For either of you. You both deserve so much happiness.”

I suffer yet another internal collapse—a breaking down of my insides. My heart. “What about your happiness?”

He doesn’t answer, only looks away with feigned indifference.

“I need you to understand something, too,” I say.

His eyebrows lift like he’s listening, but he doesn’t look at me.

“You don’t have to choose. I can keep my distance from Tristan.”

For some reason that just makes him more upset. “It’s too complicated.”

“Why?”

“Because I know how he feels about you. His journal… Jesus, that was an eye-opening experience.” He sniffs and wipes his nose. He gathers his knees to his chest, resting his wet cheek on them. His mouth stretches into a sad smile. “I think you love him as much as I do.”

I shake my head.

“I know it’s a different kind of love, but quantifiably, I think I’m right.”

“It’s not love.”

He rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ. I wonder which one of us needs him more.”