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His jaw tightens, his eyes hardening. He stares at me, the silence deafening. The tension in the room is so thick, you could cut it with a knife. “Elowyn, you’re being unreasonable—”
My stomach smooshes together in a pit of cold, hard regret. All I ever wanted was to connect with this man enough that he would show me who he is, not push me away. How did we get here? As I struggle not to cry, I pull my lower lip between my teeth.
. “Maybe you’re right,” he says finally, his voice cold. “Maybe I do need to think about what I want. About what makes me happy.”
“Weston— “ I start, but he raises a hand to stop me. “We still need to talk. There are things you need to tell me.”
“Not right now,” he interrupts. “You’ve said your piece, Elowyn. Now it’s my turn to think.”
Without another word, he turns and strides out of the room. I hear his footsteps echo, the slam of the front door reverberating through the apartment. The silence that follows is deafening, filling the space between us, even though he’s no longer here.
I stand there, frozen, my heart pounding in my chest. The room feels suddenly too big, too empty. The walls seem to close in on me, the loss pressing down, suffocating me.
Maybe I was too needy. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed him. But I can’t help but feel that I was right. That we both needed this. Needed to air our grievances, to speak our truths.
But as the silence stretches on, filling every corner, I can’t help but feel a pang of dread. I’m asking Weston for too much. But what he’s giving me isn’t enough, and now I need to make a decision about whether or not I can live with that.
With that looming in front of me, fear takes over my body.
And as I retreat to the bathroom, closing the door behind me with a soft click, I can’t help but hope that he comes back. That he understands why I said what I said. That we find a way to navigate through this, together.
But for now, I need space. I need time to think, to breathe, to process. And I hope, with everything in me, that he does too. Because if Weston keeps withholding something important for me to know, I don’t think we’ll be able to stay together.
Chapter Sixteen
Weston
My fingers hover ever so close to Elowyn without touching, but I don’t grab her hand as we walk. My heart squeezes inside my chest as it yearns to connect with her—to tell her everything’s going to be okay even though I know that it probably won’t. In the blink of an eye, in a strangled heartbeat, everything changed. The gap that’s widened between us is too important. In order to close it, we’re going to have to wade through the mess in the middle.
Since our disagreement about her sisters a few days ago, my girl has been really quiet. It’s been gutting me in an emotional torture kind of a way, so I racked my brain trying to figure out the perfect time and place to tell her my story. When I brought up the possibility of this date night, she reluctantly agreed. Now we’re at a small music and art festival on the outskirts of Frostvale to celebrate the autumn equinox, and a few people in the alternative healing community are set up too. If nothing else, there will be good food and nice weather. And while we’re enjoying the festival and each other, I’ll work up the courage to tell Elowyn my life story. Because if I don’t, we won’t even have a sliver of a chance to move forward.
It will be the end.
I shouldn’t have said those things to her. Not about her sisters, or about her doing what she wants with her life. I’ve been pushing her so hard—making the website and taking orders for her. I never stopped to ask if she wanted that either. It’s beyond hypocritical of me. I should know more than anyone that we don’t always get to choose things for ourselves. I know what it means to feel obligated, especially to your family. Why is it always so much easier to analyze and fix other people’s lives when you have a bird’s eye view?
I can tell by the way she phrased things before that she knows more than she’s saying about my past. I owe her the truth before she gets any closer to me. I’m damaged goods, and she needs to know what she’s buying. Even if that risks her walking away entirely. Even if that would be the worst thing that ever happened to me.
Worse than killing Joel.
Even if that would take away the only light I’ve ever known in this world.
Even if that would bring me to my knees.
Just the thought of it sizzles inside me like a live wire twitching across the ground.
It’s been almost a week since our last full day off together. And the day off before this one? Yeah, that went so poorly that I even wondered if she’d want to try again. But in a heartbeat, things are different somehow. We should be close. This is the point in the relationship where I should be opening up. But I haven’t ever done that with anyone, not really. It’s hard to be honest when you have to swallow such a huge secret about yourself. You end up locking away all of the other parts, too.
No matter how hard I try, I know I still have a lot of healing to do. I’ve spent a long time running away from my past, trying to ignore it instead of integrating it into who I am—using it to grow and make me a better man. I’m willing to try now, not just for Elowyn, but for myself. I just think it will be easier with her at my side. I’ve been on a healing journey for the past few years—Reiki, EMDR, meditation, EFT, you name it. My mom would laugh if she ever found out, but I think it’s helped me to look within instead of without. I’m the only one who can fix me.
I steal a glance at her and suck in a breath. She’s so beautiful it hurts. Her chestnut hair is braided in some complicated circle that goes around her head, and she’s leaned into the autumn concept with a pair of brown boots and a huge drapey sweater. People look at us as we walk around, and I can tell from their faces that we look good together. Something about us just fits. I’m happy we have the opportunity to do something outside of town, where we don’t have to worry about coworkers or a crazy ex-boyfriend. It feels nice, being somewhere we can walk with confidence and sip hot cider without looking over our shoulders.
As much as she wants to relax around me, I can tell that she’s nervous. That lingering sensation that I’m not telling the truth hasn’t gone away. Worse than anything, I wonder if she’s afraid of me. Even if it’s only a little. Even if it’s only thethoughtthat I could do something to her. Because I couldn’t. Not in a million trillion years. I’d unalive myself before I’d lay one single finger on Elowyn. I’m chalking it up to her being uncertain since I took her someplace she’s never been before. I try to act casual, like we’re strolling aimlessly through the aisles of vendor tables set up in the park, rather than directing her toward the group of people gathered around a specific tent in the back corner.
I can hear the hum of the singing bowls from several yards away, and I already feel calmer and more confident, gently putting a hand at the small of her back. She doesn’t move away from the contact, and some of the tension I’ve been carrying all day melts away.
“Do you mind if we stop here?” I ask her, motioning toward an opening in the small crowd at the corner of the tent. She shakes her head with a shrug and lets me position us in the remaining space.
We stand quietly, letting the rhythmic vibrations of the bowls take over. Elowyn leans back against my chest, and as I wrap my arms around her, I realize that despite all the work I’ve done on myself since Joel died, I still have a ways left to go. She doesn’t stand a chance at being happy with me until I’m happy with myself, and that starts by setting boundaries with Mom. I can’t take care of Elowyn as a true partner would until I put my own house in order. I’ve let my past be an open wound for too long, festering, never quite scabbing over. I’ve ignored it, rather than doing the work needed to clean it out and let it knit back together. A scar would be better than whatever I’ve let this turn into. My internal wound is more like a wart with all of the rot underneath the skin.
