My Brother’s Best friend

Chapter Thirteen — The Confession

(Harper’s POV)

It’s raining the next night. The kind of slow, steady rain that turns the whole world quiet. I’m sitting by my window with my laptop open, staring at a blank page, pretending I’m not waiting for something — or someone.

My phone buzzes.

JACE: can we talk?

I stare at the message for a long time before replying.

ME: depends. are you actually going to talk this time?

There’s a pause. Then—

JACE: yes. please. porch?

The screen goes black. My heart doesn’t.

⸻

He’s already there when I step outside, hair damp, hoodie darkened by the rain. The porch light glows soft behind him, and for once, he doesn’t look like he’s trying to keep control. He just looks… tired.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hey.”

For a moment, neither of us moves. Rain drums softly on the roof. Then he runs a hand through his hair, takes a shaky breath, and says, “You were right.”

I blink. “About what?”

“Everything.” He exhales, voice rough. “I’ve been lying to myself — about how I feel, about what this is. And I can’t keep doing it.”

My throat goes tight. “Then stop.”

“I’m trying.” He laughs under his breath, like he can’t believe he’s saying this. “Harper, I’ve known you since you were a kid. You used to follow Noah and me around like we were superheroes. I thought of you as… his little sister.”

“I’m not a kid anymore,” I whisper.

“I know.” His eyes meet mine, steady and unguarded. “That’s the problem. Somewhere along the way, you stopped being Noah’s little sister and became you. And I can’t stop seeing you that way.”

The words land heavy and bright, like lightning behind my ribs.

“Then why keep pretending?” I ask, my voice trembling.

He takes a step closer, just enough for me to feel the warmth of him. “Because I didn’t want to mess up everything. I didn’t want to ruin the only family I’ve ever really had.”

“Jace…”

He shakes his head. “But every time I see you, every time you look at me like that—” His voice breaks a little. “I can’t stay away. I don’t want to anymore.”

The silence that follows feels sacred. The kind of quiet that happens right before something changes forever.

Finally, I whisper, “So what happens now?”

He lets out a long breath, rain pattering behind us. “Now we stop lying. To each other. To ourselves.”

For a moment, it feels like the whole world is holding its breath.

Then Noah’s car pulls into the driveway. Headlights cut through the rain.

Jace’s eyes flash toward the noise, then back to me. “Later,” he says softly, his voice full of everything he can’t say yet.

I nod. “Later.”

He steps off the porch as Noah climbs out of the car, calling something about dinner. I force myself to smile, to wave back, while my heart is still somewhere in the space he just left behind.