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“I don’t think that really makes it okay, dude.”
“I know Lennox, and I am so sorry for it. Part of me wishes I could take it back, but I did get to know you, albeit in the wrong way, but I actually did. I don't know if I could ever regret that.”
Darn it! Why did the creepy have to sound so logical and sweet?
“So, you like what, wrote to me as Blaze?”
“Yeah.”
Something in my mind clicked, and I realized I’d kind of always known there was something different about some of the emails. I rationalized it as Blaze being more emotional or sweet at times versus the gruff and deep way he was at others. But now, knowing Slade was Blaze, it was easy to identify which letters were from him.
And not that Slade wasn’t sweet, he was, but it was a different form of caring. His notes tended to be darker and emotionally driven. Slade and I had the creative aspect in common, and with that, we saw and felt things on levels others didn’t.
But there had been some letters, I hadn’t felt as deep of a bond in them. I’d enjoyed reading them because they were fun and encouraging. They made me laugh and smile. Sometimes, the letters made me think about important topics, asking probing questions. They always broadened my worldview, and if I had to guess, those were the ones from Zane.
“Does Slade know you impersonated him?”
“Yes, he knows. He discovered it one night, and we got into a huge fight over it. I stopped then, promising I wouldn’t write to you anymore. I realized how much he cared for you, and I knew I could never be the one to take you away from him. He’d already lost so much, and I had violated his trust. It sucked losing the connection to you, but I couldn’t lose my brother. I was so smitten by then, I knew if you ever found out the truth, it would ruin any chance I had, and there was no way I could keep writing to you and not fall head over heels. It killed me to stop, but I did. I knew it was the only recourse, and I hoped it would save my relationship with Slade. Besides, I knew you both deserved better, and I hoped with me stepping back, you’d get there.”
I sat for a minute staring, not sure how I felt about his admittance. Zane was right in thinking if I’d known this as a teen before I met him, then I wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with him. Adult Lennox knew differently, and how at the age of eighteen, I hadn't always made the best choices either. I also understood perception and emotion-filled decisions. Perhaps most importantly, I believed in second chances. This was a lot to overlook, but maybe that was when it mattered the most.
So many people discounted my mom because of the things that had occurred in our lives. They only ever saw her as a diagnosis and not the person she was, someone who struggled daily to be what she needed for her family or who had to live with the memories of the worst moments of her life. I hated the concept of evaluating a person based on one event. It dismissed the whole of their life and narrowed it down to things they deemed unforgivable. In my mom’s case, she hadn’t been well, and in perhaps Zane’s case, he hadn’t processed his grief. It was something I could relate to and understand now, and while it didn’t excuse his actions, I knew one bad thing didn’t cancel out a whole bunch of good things.
So I nodded, not ready to pass judgment on him. His smile lifted a little. “Okay, what’s your next good thing/hard thing?”
“Ha, nice try. It’s your turn now.”
“Me?” I leaned back, shocked, suddenly uncomfortable. “I didn’t agree to this.”
“I think it’s only fair, gorgeous.”
His eyes were lit up, shining with glee, and I found myself matching it. Zane made me want to give in and just laugh with him. The endearment had me recalling the kind guy who’d helped me in the hallway that night, settling his deeds for good higher in my mind.
Blowing out of breath, I thought about something good in my life. “Well, I helped my brother with his school project. My life is kind of boring. Way to make me feel like I’ve not done anything good in my life,” I joked, effortlessly pushing his leg.
“I would have to disagree with you there, Noxy girl. There are a lot of nice things that you’ve done.” He lifted a finger and started to count them off. “All the ways you’ve helped your mom and practically raised Noah. You and Slade are similar in that sense, always willing to take care of everyone else, ignoring yourself.” He gave me a narrowed look before continuing, lifting a second finger.
“Fighting against rumors and hypocrisy in your town. And third, choosing to stay close to monitor and take care of your family, putting your own dreams on hold. Those are just a few things I remember. I know there are plenty more in the years since we’ve spoken. You just don’t see yourself or the things you do that way.”
Shrugging, I hid my face, embarrassed at how perceptive he was. Even in a few small encounters, he knew me. I didn’t acknowledge that he was right, either. I did struggle to see the good in myself, or thinking I did anything extraordinary. People always commented on the things I did naturally as being good, and it felt odd to be praised for it. I never thought twice about it and just did it. I never debated if I should do something, it was my natural instinct to step in. It felt weird when people made it out to be like I was an angel or should be given a reward for helping my mom. It felt ludicrous, honestly. She was my mom, of course I wanted to help her.
“Yeah, well. I guess we all have our demons.” I picked at my pants, not able to look at him and his all-seeing eyes. It took me a few minutes to calm my racing heart before I could start again.
“The bad thing… I once put eyedrops into Shelley’s drink, and I never told anyone, not even Simon. I was mad at her for what she said about my mom, and I reacted. She got really sick, and had to be hospitalized. I felt horrible about it. So much so, I volunteered to help her do her homework.” My face heated at the memory of Si asking me why I was bothering with helping her, coming to the forefront.
Zane chuckled. “See? Even when you’re bad, Noxy, you balance it out with some good. You really are one of a kind, Lennox.”
His compliment made me feel warm inside, and I wanted to crawl into his arms. I knew it wasn’t a good idea, so I shoved it away, focusing back on the conversation at hand.
“What’s the other thing you wanted to tell me? Your other bad thing?”
“Well, this one… It’s a little harder to explain.”
Doubt and fear settled over me, and I found myself wondering if I should’ve called someone. Looking at the clock, it was 3 am. Mother trucker. Maybe I needed to get my intuition checked out because I suddenly wondered if it had led me into a false sense of security, luring me into dropping my shields until he would really strike.
“It has to do with the night I learned your name, the night Duncan died.”
Swallowing, I nodded, hoping I was ready to hear this.
