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“It’s not your fault. I haven’t been home in a while.” Alongwhile. “I just got into town a few days ago.” It sounds like a perfect excuse as to why I’m not up to date on all of the happenings around here. But to me, it’s an embarrassment. I pride myself on how much I care about my family. My whole life is based on being able to take care of them. Why would she hide this from me?
Miss Lynn seems like a sweet and affectionate woman. It’s clear that she’s someone my mother must trust. I let out an unsteady breath. “I—” I shake my head and start to explain myself, but she cuts me off.
“Have a seat,” she suggests with a soft hand on my shoulder. I sit on the tall stool next to the counter, and Miss Lynn shuffles over to the fridge to grab a soda and offer it to me.
The cold fizzy drink helps. “Thank you.”
“Of course dear. Now I know we just met. But I can practically see the steam of stress rising out the top of your head,” she laughs. “Want to talk about it?”
Bravery is a tricky thing to conjure when you need it most. I dig deep down to find mine. But it won’t budge. I can’t seem to lift my eyes to meet Miss Lynn’s. To word vomit all of my worries and stresses and problems. She knows it too, because her calm voice coaxes at least one sentence out of me.
“Blythe?”
“Everything’s a mess,” I whisper. Tears pool in my eyes and I hate it. I hate it with a fiery passion because when I start to let my emotions pour out, they’re hard to stop. And I’m here with Gage, who I just agreed to have a no-strings-attached friends-with-benefits situation with. Talk about embarrassing.
Now, this lovely woman that I’ve barely just met gets to see the ugly head of my despair rear up and be on full display. Just my fucking luck. I’m not sure what I’m more emotional about - the mortification of this very moment, or the fact that apparently my mother needs surgery and hasn’t bothered to tell me about it.
A ruthless burn starts in my chest. I rub at it to will it back down.
“Are you okay?” Gage’s deep voice asks from across the room. He’s not far away for long though, because in a moment’s time, he’s standing next to me with a hand on my shoulder.
“My mom…” I sniff and reach again for the soda Miss Lynn handed me. After a drink and a shake of my head, I stand and smile.
“Thank you,” I say. My bravery may not have shown up, but my brain still works. And I’m not about to apologize. Thanking someone for their kindness instead of apologizing for my weakness is my favorite way to take back my power in a moment like this.
“I’d love to come back another time and help however I can. Would you mind giving me a ride back to my parent’s house again?” I look to Gage. He might see right through my calm facade, but he doesn’t show it.
“Of course,” he says. Then he takes me by the hand.Holdsmy hand so warm and firm. It’s infuriatingly comforting. I should give in to the urge to lean into his side and wrap my other hand around his arm. Leaning on someone for support, literally, is taking things too far though. I’m not about to wobble my way out of here clinging to this man no matter how good he’s making me feel right now.
I force a tight smile on my face and drop his hand when we take a step toward the door. He looks over at me for a split second, but I catch it. The disappointment. Then the realization. It was an instinctive move, taking my hand.
The ride back to my parent’s house is completely silent. We both know that asking questions or confiding is dangerous territory.
I pull out my phone to text Kee and let her know that I won’t be back until later. I know she was planning on a long bath, a face mask, and reading her book today before I helped her pack tonight. I don’t know how long this is going to take, but she might have to start without me.
When I open the door and get one foot on the ground, Gage finally speaks up.
“Hey.” He keeps one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear stick. His hat’s been pushed hastily back and a thick tendril of dark hair lays across his forehead. Instead of answering him, I just meet his gaze and raise my eyebrows in wait for whatever it is he wants to say.
“Just… text me.” He tries to mask it, but there’s no missing the concern in his tone. The clench in his jaw makes it seem like he’s holding back. That makes two of us. Because in a perfect world, I’d have already let him hold me the whole way here. Told him my whole life story. Vented about how worried I am about taking care of my family. Invited him inside for moral support. Asked for his advice. Then let him kiss it all better when we got home.
But we aren’t doing any of those things. So his jaw stays clenched and my spine remains rigid. Not the least bit relaxed or soothed like it could be if I let it.
Chapter 17
Blythe
Me:Can you pick me up?
Warren:Pick you up? Where are you?
Me:At Mom and Dad’s. You might want to come inside when you get here.
Warren:??
Warren:Is everything alright?
Me:I guess so. Idk.
