“Yes, why?” Katherine demands. “Don’t we provide enough for you?”

“The money wasn’t for me!” Andrew finally drops my hand so he can pinch the bridge of his nose for a second. Then he releases a breath and the final truth. “I found out Grandpa wrote Jack out of the will. The trust that was supposed to go to both of us—he changed it so I’m the only beneficiary, and he added a stipulation that says I have to get married to claim the money. I did this whole thing for Jack!”

The entire family turns to look at the woman sitting on the couch in her quiet fury. I was already looking at her—already memorizing the lines of hurt and disappointment and rage on her face—so I already know better than to expect Andrew’s declaration to change anything.

“For me?” Jack echoes, like she must have misunderstood the cruel irony of that claim. “You lied to me for me?”

“Yes!” Andrew says, but I can tell he knows he’s losing the moral high ground already. We both are, and my arms feel numb and my chest feels heavy and I know—I know—that this is what it feels like to fail. “When you decided to open the Butch Oven, you thought you had the trust to fall back on, and I didn’t want you to go bankrupt trying to go after your dream.”

Jack rises from the couch slowly and ominously. “I didn’t think I had the trust to fall back on,” she says.

Andrew blinks. “What do you mean? You did. We both did.”

“No,” Jack says firmly, her teeth grinding together. “I didn’t. You think I don’t know Grandpa wrote me out of his will after I dropped out of college? That motherfucker? Andrew, I knew there was no money waiting for me. I always knew. I just acted like I had a safety net because it was the only way to get you all to trust me. I took out the business loan for the bakery because I believe in myself. And all I’m hearing right now is that you didn’t believe in me.”

“I do believe in you!” Andrew shouts, rushing toward his sister. “JayJay, I completely believe in you! But starting a business is always a risk! I know! I work in investments! I didn’t want you to fail!”

He reaches out for her, and she bats his arms away.

“The two of you really don’t get it, do you?” She jabs a finger at me, too. “I didn’t need you to try to save me, Andrew. I just needed you to support me. And you assumed I would fail, just like Dad did.”

“I didn’t—” Andrew starts, but the rest of his defense dies in the back of his throat. Because he did, and I did. We both screwed everything up.