Chapter 9: Buried Truths

The warm Texas night lingered in the air long after sunset, clinging to skin like memory. The cicadas buzzed in the trees. Esme sat on the back porch with Joel. Henry and Sarah had gone to bed hours earlier, and the beer in her hand had gone untouched. Joel noticed. “You okay?” She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Just… tired.” He didn’t press. Just waited, like he always did. Eventually, she turned to him. “Can I ask you something?” “Course.” “If someone told you something awful… something that might change the way you saw someone else—someone you cared about… would you want to know?” Joel didn’t answer right away. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, beer bottle dangling from his hand. “I’d rather know the truth. Even if it’s ugly.” She nodded, pulling her knees to her chest. “There’s something I want to tell you. A secret only my two best friends know about.” Joel didn’t speak. Just looked at her with that quiet steadiness of his. “It’s about my ex. His name was Tim. We met in the army. He was charming. Everyone liked him. Even my dad.” She swallowed. “They thought he was solid. Reliable.” A pause. “We started seeing each other during my second deployment. It felt… safe. Like I had someone who understood the chaos. But he changed. Fast.” Joel stayed still, his gaze never leaving her. “It started small. Controlling stuff. Where I went, who I talked to. Then came the yelling. The nights where he’d show up drunk and accuse me of things I hadn’t done.” She swallowed. “Then came the bruises. The… isolation.” She looked down at her hands. “I stayed longer than I should’ve. Because I thought I could manage it. Because I was afraid.” Joel didn’t move, didn’t blink. Just listened. Joel’s hands clenched slowly around the bottle. Still, he said nothing. Her voice cracked a little. “And the worst part? I couldn’t bring myself to tell my dad. He liked Tim. Believed in him. I didn’t want to see that look on his face. Like… he’d failed me.” Joel finally spoke, voice low. “That ain’t on your dad. That’s on Tim.” “I know. In my head, I do. But my heart—” “Still blames itself.” She nodded, eyes shining. “Can I ask something?” Joel said gently. She nodded. “Do you still feel like you’re hiding?” Esme exhaled. “Not anymore. Not right now.” Joel leaned closer. “You were brave, Esme. Walking away. Protecting others. Surviving. That’s not failure.” “I don’t feel brave,” she murmured. “I feel like I failed myself. Letting it go that far.” “You didn’t fail. You survived.” Esme closed her eyes. “If your dad ever finds out,” Joel added softly, “it won’t destroy him. It’ll break his heart that you were hurting alone.” She wiped a tear. “You really think that?” “I know it. I’d feel the same way if it were Sarah.” Esme’s voice was barely there. “I’ve never told anyone. Not even in therapy. I guess I didn’t trust anyone to hold it.” Joel reached for her hand. “You can trust me.” She gripped it like an anchor. “There’s more,” she whispered. Joel turned slightly toward her. “After I broke it off with Tim… I went on leave for an extended period because of mental health issues. Took a flight out to Holland. Got a house in a small town; where I thought I would be safe.” He waited, jaw tight. “But he still found me.” Joel’s body tensed, breath slow and deliberate. “Somehow he’d gotten my leave info. Broke into my apartment. I’d just come back from the market. He was already inside. Waiting.” Joel’s fists clenched on his knees. “I thought I was going to die. Right there. I was extremely lucky that my two friends got suspicious when I hadn’t texted them back. They kicked in the door. Saved me.” She wiped at her face, eyes glassy but dry. “If he finds me again — or get so much as a whisper that he’s nearby — you tell me. Immediately.” She nodded, but didn’t speak. “I mean it, Esme.” Her eyes met his — and for once, she didn’t look away. “I trust you,” she said. Joel looked like he might say something — but didn’t. Instead, he reached out and took her hand. Not possessively. Not to fix anything. Just to hold it. Esme gripped his back like an anchor.