I shake my head, my chest tightening with each word. “Alex—”
“And it’s not even worth it,” he rushes out, “I’m not worth it, Nate. I’m- I’m a loser. I can’t even—” He starts to say something, but stops.
“I’m not worth her dying for.” He scrubs at his eyes, looking anywhere but me as tears threaten to fall.
I set my stuff down and turn toward him. “Alex, look at me.” He shakes his head, shoulders curling in tighter. “Hey,” I put a hand on his shoulder.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, he does. And God, the look on his face guts me. All the pain and guilt he’s been carrying.
I had no idea he was feeling this way.
“None of that is your fault. Not a damn bit of it.”
“But—”
“No,” I cut in, my voice clearer than it’s ever been because nothing has ever been more important for me to get right. “She chose to have you. She loved you, Alex. So much. And Dad? He bailed on us. That was on him, not you.”
“But if she hadn’t died, you would’ve had a normal life.”
“Youaremy normal life. I wouldn’t trade you fornothing. Not for Mom still being here, not for Dad staying sober, notfor a damn thing.”
He blinks hard, the tears finally slipping free. “But I’m not even—”
“I love you, kid. You’re worth everything to me.”
He drops his head, crying quietly, his shoulders shaking.
And we ain’t exactly huggers in this family, but I don’t even care. I pull him into me with a hand on the back of his hoodie, and after a moment, I feel him lean against me.
We sit there on the buckets for a long time. “Shhh, it’s okay,” I murmur, over and over. “I got you, Alex. I always got you.”
By the time I pull back into the driveway, it’s damn near 10 o’clock. The drive home was quiet. Alex had his head against the window, half-asleep, with the radio playing low.
I’m tired too, in that good, bone-deep way.
Campfire smoke still clings to my clothes, and my muscles are aching from wrestling tents and chasing the kids around. But there’s something else sitting on my heart.
Alex fucked me up, saying he shouldn’t have been born.
What the hell is he thinking?
I wouldn’t be happier without him, and I hate that he could ever think that. I can’t help but wonder what I’ve done to make him feel that way.
When I get closer to the house, headlights reveal a figure sitting on the porch steps, and my heart does this stupid flip before my brain even catches up.
She’s got her knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them, hair falling forward in loose waves that shine in the porch light. And as soon as she sees my truck, she pushes to her feet.
I cut the engine and climb out, leaving Alex to sleep in the truck for now. “Hey,” I call out, shutting the door behind me. “What’re you doing out here?”
“I know you just got back, and you’re probably tired. But I wanted to see you,” she says, all nervous, twisting her fingers around.
Like she thinks I’m not gonna be happy to see her.
She could’ve said she wanted to kick my ass, and I’d have been just as stupidly happy as I am right now.
“I’m always gonna wanna see you.” When I get near enough, I catch her scent, some sorta floral.
