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The romantic picnic in the park I thought we were going to have that night turned into Valen and me eating two large pizzas in my bed.
In between getting to know each other.
Mind.
Body.
Past.
Things shifted.
Both our worlds changed, and since then, we’d been riding this high I never fucking wanted to come down from and, for now, I was going to tell myself I never would. Valen got her things from the storage unit, and she moved them into my place—herself into my bedroom. And for two weeks, Karl had either been picking her up from work before he came to collect me, or on the days she worked late, I would swing by the Boston University library and collect her myself.
We’d fallen into a routine, and up until this point, other than people taking photographs and the odd questionable article, what we had was mostly undisturbed by outside forces.
But I could feel in my bones that it was about to change.
And it would test the stability of the foundation we’d built.
“You think I should do it, right?” I said before she could muster up the courage. “You can say it.”
“Okay.” She dropped her hands to the buttons on my jacket, popping them open and sliding her hands inside as she held my gaze. “I think you should do it.”
“Why?”
“Because when people see you step forward and do something like this, hopefully, they will be inspired to step forward and do something similar,” she explained, this serious look settling into her face, surprising me a little. “I don’t just mean for the children’s hospital but for other hospitals and other departments. The mental health system is fucked. It needs support like this.”
I leaned back a little, ducking my head so I could see her eyes. Eyes that seemed to be firmly focused on the pinstripes of my shirt instead of looking straight at me. “Woah, hey,” I urged, brushing her hair back from her face and gently tugging at it so she would look up at me. “Explain.”
Her hands moved to my lapels again.
Tugging.
Straightening.
Tugging.
“It’s just—” she started but quickly stopped herself. “You… my…” She pinched her eyes closed and huffed loudly. “Sorry. It doesn’t really matter.” She took a step back, and I allowed her to have that space, knowing she needed it to gather her thoughts. But it wouldn’t last long because I wanted to know what was happening in that brain of hers.
“It matters to me. You can say whatever you like here, you know that. It’s just us.”
I didn’t want her to ever feel like she couldn’t speak her mind.
I didn’t want her to ever feel like I was smothering that passion and strength I was so in awe of.
She processed for a few minutes before she finally turned to face me, an armchair between us. Valen placed her hands on the back, bracing herself, like everything she’d just gone over in her mind was so heavy she needed support. “My mom was so popular back in the day, right?”
“I think she still kind of is,” I added with a shrug.
“Right. So she has quite a standing, a lot of influence. People want to support the things she supports. Hear her views and opinions… no matter how fucking self-centered they usually are.” Valen’s eyes remained down, scanning the floor nervously, and I was starting to understand why. “What always bothered me about her was that she would never use any of that to help anyone but herself.”
“Valen—”
“I know, I know,” she objected, holding up her hands. “You aren’t my mom. You are generous. You want to do your part where you can.” She swallowed hard when she finally looked up at me. “But throwing money at things isn’t always thebestway to help.”
I wanted to be angry, fucking pissed off. She was saying all the shit I did with the hospital was just me ‘throwing money at it.’
But as much as it hurt, she wasn’t completely wrong.
