Sure, I give her the Cliffs Notes version, so there’s not that much to say when it all comes down to it. Call me whatever you want, but some of what Will and I shared back then is ours and ours alone, and as trivial as it might be looking from the outside in...I want to keep those little pieces of our story to myself. As stupid and silly as they may be.

And the bad parts...

Well, those I just rush through as fast as I can. For both Ivy’s and my sake.

It is kind of...surreal, though, how quickly she goes from knowing practically nothing, to knowing just about everything. At least the important stuff. Like the reasons why I’m the way I am now. My dad’s physical abuse was just the tip of the fucking iceberg that is my neuroses, and now my cousin has seen just how far down that chunk of ice goes.

“What the fuck?” she mouths when I’m done, eyes wide and bright with unshed tears.

I press my lips together tightly.

“He did what?” she all but growls, and it reminds me of Will’s initial reaction.

“I’m not repeating it, Ivaiah.”

She shakes her head. “No, of course not. I heard you the first time. I just—” She makes a noise deep within her throat and shouts, “Fuck!”

I watch calmly as she stands up and starts pacing, not even caring how dark it still is. Her eyes are set to a glare on some distant spot. One guess to who she’s picturing in her head.

“That is so unbelievably messed up. He practically fucking molested you.”

I bite down on my molars. “It wasn’t like that.”

She whips around to face me, arms hanging at her sides. She’s got an oversized black t-shirt on that just about reaches her knees, and no pants. It probably should be weird that I’m with my cousin while she’s half naked, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.

I beg her with my eyes as I repeat, “It wasn’t like that.”

Some of the fight in her just seems to whoosh out.

She crosses the distance suddenly, reaching forward, and cupping my face. The tips of her nails dig into my cheek and neck, rooting me in place. She whispers fiercely, “You deserve to be loved, Waylon James. More than anyone I know. I want to kill him for making you doubt that.”

My chest hitches. Her words strike deep, plugging up all the empty places I thought could never be filled. Even if it’s not lasting, there’s no denying the impact it has on my soul. It can’t last, but for now, I’ll take whatever relief I can get.