Finding Us (Christian Interracial Romance)

Not My Burden to Carry

Cecilia

I'm lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, the faint hum of the fan doing nothing to drown out the storm in my chest. My pillow smells faintly of lavender, but it's no comfort. My dad's words keep replaying in my head. We didn't stop until he bled.

I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could just sleep, wishing tomorrow morning's shift at Smooth Brew would come fast enough to distract me.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. The screen lights up.

Jeremy.

I groan softly, dragging a hand over my face. "Why now?"

I love hearing from him—always—but tonight feels heavy, too heavy. I reach for the phone anyway, thumb hovering over decline. Instead, I swipe to answer and press it to my ear.

"Jeremy, I have work in the morning," I murmur, voice hoarse.

"I know, Cece. I'm sorry. I wouldn't call this late if it wasn't important." His tone is serious, careful, like he's holding something fragile.

My heart clenches. "What happened?"

There's a pause, and then he exhales, shaky. "Your dad and mine... they went after Damien tonight."

The words sting, even though I already know. My throat tightens. "He told us," I whisper.

"Then you know they didn't just talk to him."

I press the heel of my hand to my forehead. "Jeremy..."

"They went to his office. Found him alone. Dad told us after he got home. They... they didn't hold back. Damien tried to puff himself up, like he always does, but he couldn't throw a punch. They left him bloodied and gasping."

My stomach twists. "Oh my gosh."

"I'm not saying this to scare you. I just... I don't want you finding out from someone else later. You deserve to know the full truth." His voice is steady but gentle, like he's guiding me through a storm.

I roll onto my side, gripping the blanket tight. "Jeremy, I don't know what to do with this. My dad said he was protecting me, but... it doesn't feel like protection. It feels like war."

"I get it," Jeremy says quietly. "I feel the same. When my dad admitted it, I was furious and terrified. I mean... my dad could've been arrested. So could yours."

I swallow hard. "They could still be."

"Yeah." His voice cracks on the word. "But then Mom looked at him, patched him up, and called him 'attractive.' Like it was just... another day."

Despite the lump in my throat, a weak laugh escapes me. "Claire would say that."

"She would," he says, a smile in his voice. But then he sobers. "Cece, they've been carrying anger at Damien for decades. Did you know he was in their high school class?"

I blink. "Wait—what?"

"Yeah. Damien asked out both our moms, separately. They turned him down, obviously, but I think he never forgot. He's been carrying that bitterness, festering it. He was already creepy back then."

My skin crawls. "That explains... so much."

Jeremy is quiet for a moment, then says softly, "I wish I could've shielded you from him. From all of it."

I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me. "You couldn't have known, Jer. None of us did. And I survived."

"Yeah, but surviving isn't the same as being safe," he whispers.