Chương 10
“No, you told me you got jealous.”
“I did.”
“When did ‘no’ become ‘maybe’?”
His jaw tightened.
“After you told Dad you were touring houses in Westbridge.”
Westbridge was where I eventually bought.
It had older trees, decent schools, and homes that were expensive without being ridiculous by local standards.
Mark and Tessa had been looking there too.
I had known that in the general sense.
I hadn’t known they had lost a bid three streets from my eventual address.
Mark continued.
“Mom called me that night.”
“What did she say?”
“That you were looking at places with four bedrooms.”
“I looked at everything.”
“I know.”
“She said four bedrooms specifically?”
“Yeah.”
“How did she know?”
“You sent Dad a listing.”
I remembered.
I had sent him one because I wanted his opinion on the roof.
It wasn’t the house I bought.
It wasn’t even in the same neighborhood.
But it had four bedrooms.
I looked down at the next screenshot.
Mom: Jack doesn’t need that much house.
Mark: Maybe he wants it.
Mom: He always wants to prove something.
Mark: Like what?
Mom: That he doesn’t need anyone.
The sentence made my chest tighten.
I kept reading.
Mom: If he buys something that size, there is no reason you and Tessa should keep throwing money away on rent.
Mark: He’s not buying me a house.
Mom: Nobody said that.
Mark: Then what are you saying?
Mom: Families help each other.
I put the page down.
“She was grooming the argument.”
Mark winced.
“That sounds creepy.”
“It was creepy.”
“She didn’t say, ‘Take Jack’s house.’”
“Not then.”
“No.”
“What did Dad say?”
Mark looked away.
“That’s later.”
“Show me.”
He pushed another page across the table.
This one was a group text between Mark, Mom, and Dad.
Dad: Your mother explained the situation.
Mark: There is no situation.
Dad: You’re paying almost 2800 a month for a place you don’t own.
Mark: I’m aware.
Dad: Jack has options you don’t have.
Mark: Because he saved.
Dad: Because he has no dependents.
Mark: Neither do I.
Dad: Not yet.
I stopped.
“Dependents?”
Mark rubbed his thumb against the handle of his coffee mug.
“They knew Tessa and I were trying.”
I looked at him.
“Trying to have a baby?”
He nodded.
That explained some of Mom’s obsession with nurseries.
It did not explain the rest.
“How long?”
“Since last year.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because we didn’t tell most people.”
“You told Mom and Dad.”
“Tessa told Mom after a doctor’s appointment.”
His eyes dropped.
“She was scared.”
There was something in his face I hadn’t seen before.
Not jealousy.
Not embarrassment.
Shame, maybe.
Or grief.
I let the silence stay.
Mark stared at the coffee.
“We had a miscarriage in February.”
The word changed the air between us.
I put the screenshots down.
“Mark.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded once.
His eyes stayed on the mug.
“Tessa was ten weeks.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Everything available sounded too polished or too small.
So I said, “I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
The waitress appeared with a pad in her hand.
“You guys ready?”
Mark blinked hard and looked at the menu he hadn’t opened.
“Give us a minute.”
She nodded and moved away.
He took a breath.
“Mom got weird after that.”
“Weird how?”
“Like she had to fix everything.”
I thought about my mother’s messages.
Running out of time.
A yard.
A nursery.
Mark needing the house more.
“What did Tessa want?”
“To be left alone.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“She stopped telling Mom things.”
“Also reasonable.”
Mark gave me a tired look.
“I’m not defending any of this.”
“I know.”
“She started talking about us needing stability.”
“Your lease is stable.”
“For another eight months.”
“And you both have jobs.”
“I know.”
“But Mom decided stability meant my house.”
“Basically.”
I turned another page.
Dad: If Jack buys in Westbridge, there may be a practical solution.
Mark: He’s not going to just hand it over.
Dad: Nobody said hand it over.
Mom: He can afford to wait.
Mark: For what?
Dad: You could rent from him until you can qualify for a better mortgage.
Mark: Why would he agree?
Mom: Because you’re his brother.
I looked up.
“Did you think I would?”
“Not then.”
“What changed?”
“My bonus fell through.”
He said it quietly.
I knew he worked in equipment sales.
I knew his income varied.
I didn’t know how much they had counted on one bonus.
“We were using it for the down payment,” he continued.
“Then Tessa’s car needed a transmission.”
“You could’ve called me.”
“I know.”
“I would’ve helped with the car.”
“That’s kind of the problem.”
“What does that mean?”
Mark looked at me directly.
“You would’ve helped.”
I frowned.
“So?”
“So Mom was right about one thing.”
I waited.
“You always help.”
His voice was flat.
“No drama.”
“No lecture.”
“You act annoyed, but then you show up.”
“That doesn’t give you my house.”
“I know.”
“But it made the idea easier to believe.”
He rubbed both palms together.
“Not that you’d give it to me.”
“That you’d work something out.”
I looked back at the papers.
Somewhere between the messages, the word help had changed shape.
It had started as help with rent.
Then help with a down payment.
Then help by renting to Mark.
Then help by selling.
By the time they walked into my house with a tape measure, nobody seemed to remember that every version required me to surrender something I hadn’t offered.
“How much did they know about my finances?”
Mark hesitated.
“Enough.”
I looked at him.
“How much?”
“Dad said you had around two hundred thousand saved.”
My stomach dropped.
Only three people knew the approximate amount in my savings before closing.
Me.
My mortgage broker.
Dad.
I had told him because I asked whether putting more than twenty percent down made sense.
“You told Mom?”
“No.”
“Dad did?”
“I guess.”
May you like
“Did he tell you?”
“Yeah.”
