Chapter 91 Smaller Groups

Chapter 91 Smaller Groups

Chloe

By the time Daniel and I walked downstairs, my stomach felt tied into a knot so tight I could barely breathe around it.

He stayed beside me without touching me, close enough that I could feel his presence but far enough that I understood what he was doing. This was mine to say. He had promised to stand with me, not speak for me, and somehow that made the support feel more meaningful.

The kitchen was quieter than I expected. Billy stood near the counter with his phone in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, while Max sat at the table scrolling through something on his screen.

Billy noticed us first. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Daniel answered.

Max glanced up, gave us a small nod, then returned his attention to his phone.

I looked around the kitchen. “Where is everyone?”

Billy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“James, Blake, and Annabelle. Shannon too.”

“They aren’t here?”

Daniel shook his head. “We haven’t seen them.”

“That’s weird.” Billy set his toast on a paper towel and pulled up James’s contact. “They should’ve been back last night.”

The three dots appeared almost immediately after he sent the message. Billy read the response, then gave a short laugh.

“Apparently Annabelle’s car had a blowout on the way home. They got stranded in some tiny town, and the tire shop won’t open until tomorrow.”

“They’re all together?” I asked.

“Yeah. James said they got motel rooms for the night.” Billy typed another message before setting his phone down. “They won’t be back until sometime tomorrow.”

Relief moved through me so quickly that guilt followed right behind it. I should not have felt grateful that half the people I needed to confess to were missing, especially when their absence meant repeating the ordeal later. Still, facing everyone at once had terrified me. A smaller group meant fewer voices competing for space and fewer people shaping their reactions around someone else’s. I wanted their answers to belong to them, not to whoever spoke first or loudest.

Maybe this way, each person could respond without the room turning into a jury.

I drew in a slow breath. “Okay. Well, I have something I need to tell you guys.”

Billy picked up his toast, then paused. “Actually, did either of you notice there wasn’t a podcast episode today?”

My throat tightened despite having known the question was coming.

“Yes,” I said. “That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

Billy lowered the toast, and Max looked up from his phone.

Daniel moved to the counter and leaned back against it, leaving the center of the room to me. His expression remained calm, but I could see the concern beneath it. He was ready to step in if I needed him while making sure the words came from me.

So I told them.

I confessed to everything I had already confessed to Daniel, leaving out the email about Max and Liam. I explained why I had created Penalty Box Transgressions, what had happened to my best friend, and how I had decided the entire hockey team deserved punishment for the actions of the men who protected her attacker. I admitted using the fallout for my thesis and deliberately placing myself in Daniel’s path because I thought getting close to him would give me access to more information.

The words came more steadily this time, though saying them did not hurt any less. Daniel had chosen to love me before hearing the truth. Billy and Max had no reason to soften their reactions for my sake.

When I finished, the kitchen fell silent.

Billy stared at me with an expression I could not read. Max had set his phone facedown on the table, but he still said nothing.

“I know what I did was wrong,” I said. “I thought I was holding people accountable, but I was really deciding everyone deserved to be exposed because of what happened to my friend. I feel horrible about the damage I caused, and I understand if neither of you forgives me.”

My gaze settled on Billy. “Especially you. You were one of the people most affected.”

Billy let out a breath and looked down at the toast he was still holding. For several seconds, he seemed to sort through everything I had said.

“Honestly,” he began, “you did me a favor.”

I blinked. “What?”

“That doesn’t mean what you did was okay.” He set the toast aside and leaned back against the counter. “It was pretty bad, and if you had told me this a couple of weeks ago, I probably wouldn’t have forgiven you.”

I nodded because that was fair.

“But I’ve had time to look at my life since then.” His expression softened. “The truth coming out forced me to see what everyone else had apparently been seeing for years. Maya and I were done long before I admitted it. I kept hanging on because three years felt like too much to walk away from.”

The shame inside me shifted slightly, though it did not disappear.

Billy rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m dating Leah now, and she’s absolutely wonderful. We’ve only been official for one day, but even before that, I could tell how different it was. I feel more valued by her after a couple of weeks than I did through most of my relationship with Maya.”

A faint smile touched his mouth, and the softness of it told me he meant every word.

“So, as fucked up as the whole thing was, my life is better now,” he continued. “And I owe some of that to you.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know that now.” Billy pushed away from the counter and crossed the kitchen. “Yes, Chloe. I forgive you.”

The tears returned so quickly that I barely had time to breathe before he wrapped his arms around me. I hugged him back, overwhelmed by kindness I had not expected and was not sure I deserved.

When he pulled away, he glanced toward Daniel, who had remained silent through the conversation.

“For what it’s worth, I hope you two get through this,” Billy said. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, Chloe. You made some really bad choices, but that isn’t the same thing.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled, then grabbed his phone from the counter. “Not to cut this short, but I have plans with Leah, and I’m already running late.”

“Go,” I said, wiping beneath my eyes. “Seriously.”

Billy paused at the kitchen doorway. “You and I are good.”

Then he left.

The front door closed a few moments later, and the relief he had given me faded beneath the awareness that Max was still sitting at the table.

He had not condemned me.

He had not forgiven me either.

Daniel remained near the counter while Max studied me with an expression far more thoughtful than angry. His silence was harder to read than anger would have been because I had no idea whether it meant indifference, suspicion, or something else entirely.

The kitchen suddenly felt smaller.