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3
Five
Five years.
More days than I want to add up.
When I left, I was instructed to stay away. Don’t look back, my mother said. Only good things lie ahead, and looking back would keep me from achieving everything I wanted out of life.
She was wrong.
The first year was the hardest. Everywhere I turned, I saw him. Everything reminded me of him, of the trip we took together. The time we shared together that summer. The one night that changed the rest of our lives.
Wyatt was my life, and then my parents ripped me from him.
All it took was one misstep and it was over for us. Once they found out about him, they made sure it was over between us. They didn’t care about the circumstances. In their eyes, he had destroyed my life, my future. They cared more about their reputation than how I felt. They always have and still do to this day.
Per my mother’s instructions, I’m to come home for her birthday celebration and then head back to Denver. No detours. No pit stops. No fooling around.
As if I could face him after all this time.
The secrets I’ve kept from him will come to light one day, but it won’t be this weekend. It can’t be. I’m not ready to confess all my sins. Five years may be a long time, but it still feels like too soon, yet too late to ask for forgiveness.
Some things are beyond forgiveness and this secret is guaranteed to be one of them.
Shit!Shit! Shit!
This can’t be right. We were so careful. My parents are going to kill me. Wyatt’s going to be pissed. I’m pissed at myself.
How did I let this happen?
I’m not ready. I’m only eighteen.
“Chloe!” my mom hollers from down the hall. “Breakfast.”
Pull it together Chloe, I say to myself, looking in the mirror.
You can do this.
You can do anything.
You’re strong.
Washing away the tears, I apply a fresh coat of foundation, take a deep breath and slide the tiny test into the back of the drawer. The truth will be hidden in that drawer until I find a way to tell Wyatt. Until we have time to figure out what we’re going to do.
“There she is,” my father says, smiling at me before returning his attention to the paper.
“What took you so long? Are you not feeling well?” my mother asks, a look of concern on her face. “You look a little peaked, honey.”
“I’m fine, mom. My stomach is just a little off this morning.”
As the words leave my mouth, Carmen sets a plate of eggs in front of me. The smell causes my stomach to turn and I sprint to the bathroom, expelling the contents of my stomach just as I reach the toilet.
My mother is next to me, holding a cool washcloth to my forehead when I sit back up.
“I think you should go back to bed,” she declares, helping me to my feet without removing the washcloth.
I can’t stay home. I need to meet Wyatt. I sent him a message this morning. He’s waiting for me by the pond right now. I need to tell him. It’s the right thing to do.
