Chapter 26 #3
He turns, halfway out the door. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now.
I wasn’t snooping. It fell on the floor when I was looking for the damn toothbrush.
” His words come out rushed, but I’m way past the point of listening.
There’s no air left in my lungs, and bile rises in my throat.
I’m going to be sick like I was that day when my entire world came crashing down on me. The pill bottle burns against my chest.
“Save it,” I mumble, tiredness pulling at me. “I know what I saw.” How could I have allowed myself to imagine a future with Wes? Who was I kidding?
“Jett,” his voice softens. “I don’t know what you think I saw, but I’d never invade your privacy like that. I’d never betray your trust.” He reaches for me again, but I bat his hand away.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Look, I don’t know what’s happening right now, but please talk to me.”
I don’t understand why he’s still here. I just need him gone. I need to think. Process. My mind is in chaos, a mix of fragments from the past and the future I so desperately wanted.
“Jett? You’re scaring me.” And I hear it, the edge of worry in his voice, but the panic is stronger.
It’s so blinding and overwhelming, and right this second, I don’t care.
I don’t care that he’s scared, because I’m fucking scared all the time, and no one gives a fuck.
Not really. They say they do, but it’s all just a lie, because the truth is I’m alone.
Aside from the anxiety, which is probably the most real and constant thing in my life, everything else is fleeting. I’m alone.
I push the words out, and every part of my body hurts. “Leave, please. Leave, or I swear to fucking God, I’ll throw you out on your fucking ass, Wes.”
His eyes widen, spilling over with disbelief.
His mouth opens and closes, and the hurt in his eyes almost kills me.
Then, with a deep, resounding sigh, he walks toward the bed and picks up his clothes.
I can’t watch him leave. I just can’t. Because when he walks out the door, I know he won’t come back.
I close the bathroom door behind me, the last bit of anger seeping from my body.
All that’s left is this overwhelming feeling of fatigue.
I sink to the floor, curling in on myself.
I just want to sleep and never wake up again.
The pill bottle slips from my hand, and I rest my face against the cool tiles.
Everything bleeds together. My past, my present, my future slipping between my fingers like sand.
Cannon Beach, Paris, Eugene. It doesn’t matter where I go or who I’m with.
The ghosts of my past keep following me.
Shame fills every inch of my body. Regret too.
I squeeze my eyes closed, digging my nails into my palms.
“It’s better he knows now,” I murmur against the tiles. “It’s better he knows now how broken you are.” It’s better.
There’s a gentle rap against the door. “Jett.” The softness in his voice breaks my heart. How does he not hate me right now?
“Go away,” I say. “Please go away, Wes.”
“Jett, I don’t understand what’s happening right now. But when you’re ready to tell me, I’m here.” There’s a pause, and I can feel him through the closed door. His closeness, which I want so desperately right now. His arms around me, holding me tight. “I won’t let you disappear. I won’t.”
Tears spill from my eyes. He’s right there on the other side of the door with his warmth and sunshine.
All it would take would be to get up, and then I’d be in his arms again.
But it’s an insurmountable task. I can’t.
My body is made out of lead, and the door might as well be a concrete wall between us.
“Babe, please. I need to know you’ll be okay before I go.”
“Just fucking go!”
I can almost hear his sigh through the door. “Okay. But this is not me leaving, Jett. Let me know when you’re ready to talk.” His voice is unwavering, determined.
“There’s nothing to talk about. This was a mistake.”
“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t.”
The sound of soft footsteps retreating seeps through the door, and soon it closes. Stillness surrounds me, the silence deafening, yet the beat of my heart is impossibly loud in my head. Then something builds, emerging from far away—a familiar voice, my father’s voice.
‘Why are you crying?’
I brush my fingers along my cheeks, and they come back wet.
‘You think you have it hard? Do you?’
No.
‘You’d better put that self-pity away because I can assure you that the best never feel pity for themselves.’
I know. But I’m not the best, am I?
‘So suck it up, Jared. Suck it up.’
I suck in a breath, my father’s words echoing through me. Suck it up. I don’t know if I can.
‘Now do it again, and this time like you damn well mean it. Run, Jared. No one else is gonna do it for you.’
Run. I dig my fingers into the tiles, the image of the hurt in Wes’ eyes burned into my retinas, the sound of his soft, imploring voice reverberating in my head.
‘There’s no one else, Jared. Only you.’
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the quiet. “I’m so sorry.”