Different

36.

The call with Julie lasts nearly two hours, and by the end of it, my head is spinning. It's not just that my dad cheated—apparently, he's been living a double life for years. Julie says she's stumbled on sketchy documents here and there, though she never pressed too hard. I'm glad she didn't go into detail. I don't think I could've handled it.

After he and Julie supposedly "talked things through," he still went back to that other woman. No remorse. No shame. Julie even suspects he's been drunk every day and may have slept with prostitutes. Her voice was calm, almost numb, like she had rehearsed this in her head a thousand times.

By the time we hang up, I feel like I've been hit by a truck. I'm relieved the call is over—I couldn't have taken one more revelation. Julie could have gone on for hours. And while I get that she needed someone to talk to, everything she said shattered my image of my dad. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, but deep down, I know—he's not the man I thought he was. Maybe he never was.

Feeling overwhelmed, I decide to call Ava. I need to hear her voice. "Hey, you," she answers warmly.

"Hey... I just talked to Julie," I say, skipping any small talk.

"Yeah..." she trails off. "We talked earlier today too."

"It's a lot, right? I don't even know where to begin," I sigh, collapsing back onto my bed.

"I know. I feel the same. It's like we're being dragged into his mess all over again," she says, her voice tight with frustration.

"I just needed to hear your thoughts. I'm kind of spiraling over here," I admit.

"I'm mad," she says bluntly. "He's not the man I thought he was."

"That's exactly what I thought after we hung up," I say, feeling slightly validated.

"Let's not overthink it too much, okay? Let it sit for a few days. This isn't really our mess to clean up," Ava suggests. She's right. I don't need another thing on my plate.

"Yeah. Good idea. So, what's going on with you?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Same stuff. Work. Traveling to see Ryan on weekends," she says. Ryan—her boyfriend of four years. He moved to Southern California recently, which means she's the one flying back and forth to make things work. He barely meets her halfway. Not that it's my place to say anything, but I notice it.

"You've been spending a lot of time with Jace, huh?" she asks teasingly. I can hear the smirk in her voice.

"Ugh, Mom told you?"

"Of course she did," Ava laughs. "But hey, you don't have to tell me anything. When you're ready." That's the thing about Ava now—she doesn't pry. She just listens. We didn't always get along. We used to fight constantly as kids, like it was our full-time job. But after we both spent time abroad, something changed. We reconnected, and now she's the closest person to me. My best friend. "Just tell me one thing," she says gently. "Does he treat you well?"

I smile to myself. "He does. He really does."

"Good," she says, and I know she means it. "Well, I've gotta run. Don't dwell on Dad too much, okay?"

"You too. And thanks. This helped a lot. Let's talk again soon?"

"Absolutely. Love you, sis."

"Love you," I say before we hang up. Talking to Ava helped, but now I'm alone in my dorm room again, stuck with everything I'm feeling. 

When I check the time, it's barely six. Feels like it should be midnight. I'm exhausted. Emotionally drained. Anxious. Should I call Jace? Would he even want to hear from me right now? He might be busy.

Here we go again. Overthinking. My brain is revving up for another spiral, and I can already feel the familiar headache creeping in. Maybe I should call Ava back. Or Mom? No. Not this time. I need to learn how to manage these moments without reaching for someone else. I'm a grown-ass woman. I need to get it together.

I slip out of my jeans and pull on a pair of yoga pants, tossing on an oversized sweater. Cozy armor. I grab my laptop, queue up some Jeremy Zucker, and lie back on my bed. My eyes close—and the tears come. It's a ritual by now. Sad music. A quiet room. Letting myself feel everything until I've emptied it all out. For some reason, it's comforting. Like emotional detox. My dad used to say, sometimes you just have to cry it out. Guess that stuck with me.

Fifteen minutes later, I feel lighter. Not okay. But lighter.

Then my phone buzzes.

Please not Dad. Or Ava again. I can't take another emotional hit tonight. When I glance at the screen, a smile spreads across my face. Jace.

I answer quickly. "Hey," I say softly.

"Hey back," he says. "How was the call?" Straight to the point. He remembered. He's checking on me. My chest aches in a different way now.

"Heavy," I admit.

"What'd she say?"

I tell him everything—about the apartment, the drinking, the sketchy business, even the possibility of prostitutes.

"What a dick," Jace mutters, then quickly adds, "Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm angry too. I just... don't know what to believe anymore."

"You should've called me if you were feeling like this," he says, no hesitation.

"I didn't want to be a burden," I reply honestly. "I wanted to try and handle it on my own."

"Bullshit," he says. "You don't have to go through things alone. Next time, call me." There's a pause, then—"I'm on my way. Your place or mine?"

A smile creeps across my face. He always knows what I need, even when I don't say it. "You wouldn't mind picking me up?"

"You even have to ask?" he replies. "Be there in ten."

The call ends, and I feel a little more like myself again. I toss a few things into a bag for class tomorrow and grab my purse. Just as I'm about to leave, my phone buzzes again.

It's Bree. Dinner tomorrow? Austin, Jace, you and I? I smile at her message. Dinner sounds perfect. I could use a night with the people who make me feel grounded.

Just as I reach for the door to meet Jace in the parking lot, there's a knock.

Expecting him, I swing it open with a soft "Hey." But it's not Jace.

"Hey, beautiful," slurs a voice that's way too familiar—and reeking of alcohol and cigarettes. My stomach drops.

____________

Who's at the door?

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