I stand, towering over him. “Yeah, well, she broke mine too, over and over again, all the times she didn’t stand up for me. All the times she turned a blind eye to your…” My voice breaks. “Your abuse.” Because it was. I see that now.
I open the door, and the autumn wind hits me, fresh and clean. I step outside and close the door. The past is behind me. Not gone, but behind me. No longer next to me, walking beside me like a shadow I can’t escape. My future stares back at me, bright as the sun.Wes.Wes is my future. I just hope he still wants me. If he doesn’t, I’m going to get down on my fucking knees and beg him to take me back if I have to.
I jog toward my car and pull out my phone. I call Wes, but it goes straight to voicemail. I open my texts, and there they are: three words staring back at me.
Wes:I love you
My heart threatens to break through my chest. Tears slide down my cheeks, and I read the words again and again until they turn blurry. Leaning against my car, I allow the words to settle. Wes loves me. Of course he does. He’s shown me in every conceivable way. I see it now. I’m finally ready to accept it. If I had any doubts, they vanished with those three life-changing words.
Chapter 29
Wes
Istareoutthewindow in my room, curled on my side in bed. Raindrops cascade down the glass, blurring the landscape outside, my tears making it worse. Between Jett giving me the boot and Mom’s poor brain, I’m emotionally wrung out.
It’s not like me to feel this level of depression. While it fucking sucks, it also feels good just to lie here, not doing shit. I’ve spent my life on the go, always moving forward, pushing myself. Now everything’s at a standstill.
It’s been three days, and I still haven’t heard from Jett, so I guess even telling him how I felt didn’t matter. It was a stupid idea anyway. Who tells someone they love them for the first time via text?You did, moron. In the end, Jett didn’t care. It wasn’t enough.
His angry voice still reverberates in my head.“Did you not hear me?! Get the fuck out of my bathroom!”
It didn’t take long to figure out what he was so upset about, but he refused to listen to reason. There was no talking to him.No rationalizing with him. He refused to hear my words or believe me.
“Leave, please. Leave, or I swear to fucking God, I’ll throw you out on your fucking ass, Wes.”
I pull the covers over my head and cry again. Fuck, I miss him. His touch. His smell. The way he holds me against him while we sleep. I miss the smile he tries to hide when I make a stupid joke, which he follows up with an eye roll. Those are my favorites.
Mostly, I miss how at home I feel with him.Felt.But that’s gone now. It’s all over. One mistake turned into a world of hurt.
It’s early morning, and my grandparents are in the kitchen, making breakfast, scents of coffee and bacon wafting up to my bedroom. Dishes clang below, voices murmur so they don’t disturb me.
Mom’s home now, resting, still angry and upset about everything. In a couple of months, I’ll have to be back for her brain surgery.
I’ve tried to be a good son, but I never once thought about Mom wanting to date or have a home of her own. She was always just there when I needed her. I feel… neglectful. Not sure what I could’ve done to help her, other than realizing she’s not only my mother, but still a young woman. Between her disability and caring for my ass, she didn’t have much of a life. She never once said how all that made her feel. Like me, she goes through life doing what needs to be done.
When she’s better, I plan to take her out to a nice restaurant, maybe bring her to Eugene for a couple of days just to get away.
The thought of having a plan pushes my mood aside enough to get my ass out of bed.
It has taken all my willpower not to blow up Jett’s phone. I want to call him and tell him I love him. I want him tohearmywords, not read them. But something holds me back—fear, for sure. I’m not sure I can handle another rejection or more hurtful words. But I’m hoping Jett will think about everything and reach out to me on his own.
I was so sure he’d realize that it had all just been a mistake, that I wasn’t invading his privacy, but all he’s given me so far is his silence. It’s also possible I read him wrong, that he doesn’t feel the same as I do.
Fuck the rain. I’m going for a run. Overthinking this won’t change a damn thing.
I climb out of bed, toss on a pair of running pants and a long-sleeved dry weave T-shirt. After I put on some socks, I open the built-in wardrobe Granddad built and pull out a hooded waterproof jacket.
Down in the kitchen, I fill up a water bottle.
“Wes? You’re not going for a run, are you?” Grandma asks.
“Yep.”
I have my back to my grandparents, but I know they’re staring at me with concern.
“It’s pouring, son.”
I shrug and close my bottle. “A little water never hurt anyone.”
