Page 114 of Joey

I don’t look at Brooke. I’m fucking pissed at her. I’m fucking paying her with loyalty to be on my side and she can’t even deliver on her end of the deal.

“Just change clothes,” Wald says. “At least put on a fresh shirt.”

Everyone turns away from me and goes about the business of getting ready. And this is how it’s always been.

I could be in a room filled with hundreds of people and I’d still be alone.

And that’s got nothing to do with the extent of Huck or Wald’s loyalty.

It’s all about me.

And OK. Sure. Brooke can call that whatever she wants. Self-centered or selfish. Egomaniacal. Possibly borderline narcissistic. Fine.

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

The only time I don’t feel alone—the only time I ever feel like I belong—is when my brothers are standing next to me.

And I hate that.

Because I hate them.

I fucking hate them. Johnny, most of all. Especially after what I witnessed at the Bossy Building that night. But Jesse too. Because he never gave a shit about me. He never bothered to ask me if I was OK. He went and did his thing. Left and never looked back.

And yeah. I have a bad habit of leaving too. But why stay? That was always the question. Why bother?

Johnny is never going to tell me what’s really happening and Jesse has moved on. And Zach. Zach never liked me.

So this is what it boils down to. Johnny has his secrets. Jesse has his girl. And Zach has Jesse.

I watch Huck slip on a new shirt and start buttoning it up. I glance at Wald as he runs his fingers through his hair while looking in a dressing table mirror.

I have them. I have known them for sixteen years. Have spent nearly every single day with them since we met.

And they have no idea who the real Joey Boston is.

How could they?

I don’t even know who the real Joey Boston is.

CHAPTER THIRTY - BROOKE

There’s a lot of tension in the room as we get ready for dinner. I go into the bathroom and wash my face, leaning on the vanity as I cup cool water into my hands and splash it on my cheeks.

Then find myself staring into the mirror. Just like I was before I left my apartment to go on my Bright Berry Beach interview.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

It’s a valid question. I just don’t have an answer.

Everything seemed OK until I got here. At the house it felt good. Being with them felt fine. I didn’t even wonder what other people might think of us. And I guess that’s because I’m all those things I just accused Joey of being.

The world revolves around me.

But isn’t that true for everyone?

I was too hard on him. Hell, I was maybe even kind of mean. He’s here for his daughter. This whole thing was never about me. It was always about her.

And I get that. I do. If I had a child I’d never seen and that child was living with some woman telling her she was her mother instead of me, I’d be livid. I’d be out for revenge. I’d want what was taken from me.