30. Chapter 30
Chapter 30
BECKY
A s I watched Weston cross the finish line, admiration for him filled my heart. The way he ran with determination and grace was nothing short of breathtaking. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, and his chest heaved with each intake of breath. But even in his exhaustion, he still managed to flash me a triumphant smile. His performance placed him among the top ten for both his age group and in the professional category.
We took part in the post-race festivities and caught up with some of Weston’s race buddies. It was dark by the time we said our goodbyes. I reached for Weston’s hand, intertwining our fingers as we walked to his truck. I wanted him to know how I felt about him, and how lucky I was to be with him. “You were amazing out there, Weston. I’m so proud of you.”
He turned to face me, his eyes locking onto mine. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he replied, his hand squeezing mine. “You were the best supporter, and I’m so grateful for you.”
As we nestled into the truck for our journey home, a flutter of nerves danced in my stomach. The silence between us felt like a delicate thread, one I hesitated to break. Yet, the question burning in my heart refused to be silenced. Before we started driving, I spoke up. “Weston, remember when you told people I was your girlfriend? What does that mean for us long term, especially with my flight back to Atlanta looming on Tuesday?”
Weston’s hand reached for mine, his touch gentle yet firm. He brought my hand to his lips, planting a tender kiss that sent shivers down my spine. “Don’t remind me,” he said, “I’m dreading your departure.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “I still have a year left of my degree, and then there’s work. Long-distance would be our only option. Would you... would you be willing to try that?”
The way Weston looked at me then, with such depth and sincerity, made me feel like the only person in his world. “Becky,” he said softly, “the way I feel about you right now... I’d wait an eternity, if that’s what it took. We’ll make it work. I don’t have all the answers. But can we take it a day at a time?”
I nodded, unable to contain the broad, goofy smile that spread across my face, feeling a surge of hope and love that made the uncertainties of the future seem a little less daunting.
Two hours later, we arrived back at Gray’s house. The warm glow emanating from within told me that Weston’s family was still there. My heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and apprehension.
Weston’s mom was the first to greet us, enveloping us both in a tight hug. I felt a sense of comfort in her embrace. Yesterday, as we cooked together, she’d confided in me about her fears for Weston’s safety during his races. My heart ached at the thought of her anxiety, but in this moment, I could see the utter relief on her face as she hugged her son.
Darcy greeted us with a bright, warm smile that instantly made me feel welcome—such a contrast to the slightly reserved demeanor she had the day before. It was clear she was trying to make a good impression .
Weston grabbed a quick shower and then joined us in the kitchen again. He wrapped his arm around me, and I just about melted from happiness.
Suddenly, Susan’s expression clouded with concern. “Becky,” she began hesitantly, “The courier from yesterday returned today and left your letter with us. He said they’ve attempted to personally deliver your summons unsuccessfully three times. It’s in connection with your outstanding debt. So now he’s allowed to leave it with one of your relatives or friends.”
My heart raced as Susan’s words sank in. A summons? Is that what the documents were?
Susan cringed and then continued, “I didn’t want to cause more trouble since I made a mistake yesterday, so I convinced him to leave the letter with us.”
My mind was reeling as I tried to sort through the information she was giving me. But before I could even process it all, Weston spoke up.
“Becky, why didn’t you tell me about this?” His voice was deep, filled with bewilderment rather than anger, but it stung nonetheless. He stepped back, and I felt a cold draft where his warmth had been.
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment as his words settled in the room. Mortification swept through me, and I couldn’t bear to look anyone in the eye. I felt exposed, like all my secrets were on display for the world to see. All I wanted was to disappear, to be swallowed up by the ground beneath me.
Yet before the silence could stretch too thin, Darcy intervened. “Weston, Mom, I think Becky can handle her own financial stuff. And I’m pretty sure she doesn’t need pressure from us.” Thank you, God, for Darcy.
“Becky?” Weston probed again, ignoring his sister’s suggestion.
“I didn’t want you to think ill of me,” I replied, as my gaze locked with his. I hoped he could see the honesty in my eyes, the truth in my words.
But then Weston’s expression darkened, and he said, “I think I need some fresh air.” He swiftly moved out of the house, leaving me standing there, shattered.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I glanced up at Susan. She looked at me with the same confusion I had seen in Weston. These people could never accept me. They would never look at me the same again. I was ruined. Without another word, I tucked the letter under my arm and ran towards my cottage, tears streaming down my cheeks.
The weight on my chest grew heavier with each step, urging me to seek refuge and sort through the storm inside. My hands trembled as I pushed open the door to the cottage.
As I walked aimlessly around the room, the haunting memories of my past intermingled with the present. Suddenly, I was that scared little girl again, crouched in the confines of the small room in my childhood home. The familiar feeling of unworthiness, so meticulously tucked away over the years, reared its ugly head. Immersed in this spiral of self-reflection, I found myself critically examining the choices that brought me to this point. Why did I let things get this far? Why couldn’t I be different? These doubts settled in, challenging every ounce of confidence I’d managed to build over the years. This incident had ripped open an old wound: the conviction that I was fundamentally unlovable.
A sinking realization took hold—I had to leave. As I began packing, each folded piece of clothing felt like a tangible chunk of my breaking heart. The idea of facing Weston, of seeing the look in his eyes after what had transpired, was unbearable. I was certain he had lost all respect for me. Even if it meant sitting alone at the airport for endless hours, I couldn’t risk being here when he returned. Broken girls didn’t get fairy-tale endings.
“Hank, you are a lifesaver. Thanks for picking me up so quickly. Say hi to your beautiful wife for me,” I said.
“No problem, sugar. Just glad I was nearby. Have a pleasant flight,” he replied with a warm smile.
I smiled back, relieved, and grateful I’d saved his phone number the last time I saw him. As I turned away from the car, I wiped my fingers under my eyes, wanting to remove any smudged mascara. Oh yeah, I wasn’t wearing mascara. Trying to calm my nerves with some breathing exercises, I headed straight to the woman at the check-in counter and was greeted with a friendly smile.
I explained my situation to her and asked if there was any way I could get on the next flight.
“You’re in luck, sweetie,” she said reassuringly. “We’ve got three seats left on the 8:45 pm flight to Atlanta. If you buy your ticket and check-in immediately, we can get you on that flight.”
My heart sank as her words mingled with reality—the financial reality of my circumstances. Last-minute flight tickets were a luxury I knew I couldn’t afford, yet the urgency of returning home left me with no choice. My thoughts quickly darted to the ticket I had for my original return trip on Tuesday. A small hope remained that perhaps I could get it refunded, but the likelihood was almost non-existent.
“I’m not sure I have the money for this, but I need to get home,” I said, a heavy breath escaping my lips. I handed over a credit card, praying silently that it would cover the cost. The lady behind the counter started the process, her fingers swiftly dancing over the keyboard. A slight frown creased her forehead as she handed back my card.
“I’m sorry, it seems like there’s an issue with this card,” she said gently, her eyes filled with empathy.
My face flushed with embarrassment and worry. Without missing a beat, I fumbled in my wallet for more credit cards, hoping against hope that if I split the payment across three cards, I’d have enough. As she tried again, I thought of the mountain of debt that was now threatening to bury me alive.
“You can stop stressing honey, the payments have all gone through,” the lady said with an understanding smile as she handed over my cards and the boarding pass.
A wave of relief washed over me. Thank you, God! I found my gate and waited to board the plane.