Chapter 29
Wes
I stare out the window in my room, curled on my side in bed. Raindrops cascade down the glass, blurring the landscape outside, my tears making it worse. Between Jett giving me the boot and Mom’s poor brain, I’m emotionally wrung out.
It’s not like me to feel this level of depression. While it fucking sucks, it also feels good just to lie here, not doing shit. I’ve spent my life on the go, always moving forward, pushing myself. Now everything’s at a standstill.
It’s been three days, and I still haven’t heard from Jett, so I guess even telling him how I felt didn’t matter. It was a stupid idea anyway. Who tells someone they love them for the first time via text? You did, moron. In the end, Jett didn’t care. It wasn’t enough.
His angry voice still reverberates in my head. “Did you not hear me?! Get the fuck out of my bathroom!”
It didn’t take long to figure out what he was so upset about, but he refused to listen to reason. There was no talking to him. No rationalizing with him. He refused to hear my words or believe me.
“Leave, please. Leave, or I swear to fucking God, I’ll throw you out on your fucking ass, Wes.”
I pull the covers over my head and cry again. Fuck, I miss him. His touch. His smell. The way he holds me against him while we sleep. I miss the smile he tries to hide when I make a stupid joke, which he follows up with an eye roll. Those are my favorites.
Mostly, I miss how at home I feel with him. Felt. But that’s gone now. It’s all over. One mistake turned into a world of hurt.
It’s early morning, and my grandparents are in the kitchen, making breakfast, scents of coffee and bacon wafting up to my bedroom. Dishes clang below, voices murmur so they don’t disturb me.
Mom’s home now, resting, still angry and upset about everything. In a couple of months, I’ll have to be back for her brain surgery.
I’ve tried to be a good son, but I never once thought about Mom wanting to date or have a home of her own.
She was always just there when I needed her.
I feel… neglectful. Not sure what I could’ve done to help her, other than realizing she’s not only my mother, but still a young woman.
Between her disability and caring for my ass, she didn’t have much of a life.
She never once said how all that made her feel.
Like me, she goes through life doing what needs to be done.
When she’s better, I plan to take her out to a nice restaurant, maybe bring her to Eugene for a couple of days just to get away.
The thought of having a plan pushes my mood aside enough to get my ass out of bed.
It has taken all my willpower not to blow up Jett’s phone.
I want to call him and tell him I love him.
I want him to hear my words, not read them.
But something holds me back—fear, for sure.
I’m not sure I can handle another rejection or more hurtful words.
But I’m hoping Jett will think about everything and reach out to me on his own.
I was so sure he’d realize that it had all just been a mistake, that I wasn’t invading his privacy, but all he’s given me so far is his silence. It’s also possible I read him wrong, that he doesn’t feel the same as I do.
Fuck the rain. I’m going for a run. Overthinking this won’t change a damn thing.
I climb out of bed, toss on a pair of running pants and a long-sleeved dry weave T-shirt. After I put on some socks, I open the built-in wardrobe Granddad built and pull out a hooded waterproof jacket.
Down in the kitchen, I fill up a water bottle.
“Wes? You’re not going for a run, are you?” Grandma asks.
“Yep.”
I have my back to my grandparents, but I know they’re staring at me with concern.
“It’s pouring, son.”
I shrug and close my bottle. “A little water never hurt anyone.”
No one knows what happened between Jett and me. It’s not like the breakup is a secret, but they’ve got enough shit to worry about other than my broken-ass heart.
“Wes, sit down and have some breakfast,” Granddad says with a little more force than usual. That tone that says, we’re going to have a little talk.
No talking. I don’t want to. Not yet.
I need to fucking run.
Run, run, run.
The urge to get out there is suddenly so overwhelming that I can hardly breathe.
“I’ll be back.” I push the words out, trying to keep from cracking.
“Wes…”
I ignore him and walk out of the kitchen. In the entryway, I pull on my shoes and head out the door. I’m instantly hit with the cold and the rain. It’s heavy, but it’s not pouring like a storm. I pull on the hood and tighten it, then start my run in a slow jog.
When I reach the beach, the area is dead. There are no people out here at all. Yeah, because they’re smart and you’re not. They’re inside in the warmth, and you’re being a stupid ass to run in this weather.
I ignore my brain and begin my run. I can’t even enjoy the scenery because everything is blurry and fogged over. The weather is a perfect representation of my mood.
It takes forever to find my pace and second wind. To clear my mind. I’m relatively dry, thanks to the waterproof gear, but my feet are soaked and cold. Still, I don’t stop. In fact, I push myself harder. Faster.
I see the cliffs looming ahead as I reach the end, before I have to turn around and head back. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to go back. Not home. Not back to Eugene and my job. Not back to a life without Jett. I just want to run forever. To pull a Forrest Gump.
There’s no stopping or resting. I turn around and head back. If I still feel okay after a while, I’ll keep on going. To push myself farther.
The rain is coming down harder now, and I have to keep wiping my face so I can see. Not even the seals and birds are out in this weather.
The only thing that settles in me is the decision to stop dating for a while.
No one can replace him. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have him.
I’m fucking tired. Part of me feels like I failed him somehow.
Every little thing I said and did has been scrutinized to death.
It’s going to eat at me for a long time.
I’m definitely not ready to give up on him, but as time ticks by, the less likely it is we’ll get back together. His silence is loud as hell.
Eventually, when I reach Haystack Rock, I stop and pace.
I can’t fucking breathe. I’ve overextended myself.
Despite my body wanting to gasp for air, I force myself to take deep breaths and let them out slowly.
The only good thing about my pain is that I can’t cry.
I was fighting it for my entire run. But as my heart calms down and my lungs don’t feel like they’re going to explode, all my shit comes crashing down around me, and I’m sobbing again.
I bend over, my hands on my knees, as I let it all out.
God, part of me feels ridiculous. Overreacting. Still, I don’t force myself to stop. Since there’s no one around, I stand straight and scream at the large, looming rock in front of me. It feels kind of good, so I do it again.
When I’m spent and drenched, I head home.
I need a hot shower, and I guess now I can sit down with my grandparents and tell them what happened.
They’re going to demand it out of me anyway.
They may have let me go running and given me the space I needed, but they won’t ever let me hide in my head for long.
I don’t run home, but walk. I’m chilled to the fucking bone, shivering with chattering teeth by the time I reach the house. When I’m three houses down, I stop in my tracks, seeing the lone figure sitting on the porch steps. My heart stops, then starts racing again as if jolted back to life.
Jett.
He came. He’s here.
I can hardly breathe. My eyes water again, and my lip trembles, but for a different reason.
He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t forgive me, right?
Would he be so cruel to come all this way from Eugene just to tell me to fuck off?
No, I don’t think Jett would be that mean.
But is he here to talk and fix things? I have no idea.
I can only hope. I choke down that bubbling hope until I can hear his explanation.
As much as I want to run to him and pull him into a kiss, I stop a few feet away. He slowly stands under the roof of the porch and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets.
He frowns, dark circles underneath his swollen eyes. “What are you doing, Wes? Why are you out here?”
I huff with a sudden fiery anger, spreading throughout my chilled body. “That’s it? That’s all you have to fucking say?”
Jett looks down at his feet, and his shoulders sag. “No, that’s… not why I’m here. But we’re not saying a word until you get in this house, dry off, and warm up.”
I brush past him without a word and walk inside the house. I remove my jacket and shoes, and head toward the kitchen and climb up the ladder, ignoring my grandparents.
“Hi,” Jett says to them and follows me up to my room.
Despite the heaters, I’m shivering still, and my legs ache like hell from the penetrating cold and wetness.
I strip out of all my clothes with my back turned to him, grab a towel from my closet, and dry off. I snag a pair of underwear and pull them on. Next, I tug on some sweats and a hoodie. Jett stays quiet as I work the towel through my hair.
“I’m sorry about your mom,” he murmurs when I turn around. He’s sitting on the edge of my bed, eyes squarely on me.
“Me, too.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
“I don’t know. She has to have brain surgery to remove a problematic lesion in her left hemisphere once her concussion is gone.”
He clenches his jaw, then sucks in a breath. “That must have been scary.”
“It was. Now tell me why you’re here?” I sit on the floor and cross my legs, watching him. I won’t allow myself to sit close and get my hopes up until he’s explained himself.
Jett scratches the back of his neck, then nods. “I… I got your text. I love you, too, Wes.”
“Sure could’ve fooled me. You did fool me.”