Chapter 2 #3
Mom squeezed my hand. “And a long time spent carrying the fear of telling us.”
My father took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Dad.”
“No, listen to me.” His voice stayed calm, but I could hear the emotion beneath it. “I’m not sorry for wanting you to have direction. I wanted that because I thought it would give you a good life. But if I ever made you feel there was only one way to be my son, that’s on me.”
I shook my head. “I was the one who kept it from you.”
“I know,” he agreed. “But I can still be sorry you ever felt you had to hide that part of yourself from me.”
“From both of us,” Mom agreed.
“I didn’t know how to say it.”
“You just did,” she replied softly.
My mouth twitched, but it didn’t come close to a smile. “Yeah, well, it only took me several years and a complete emotional breakdown.”
“I wish it hadn’t taken that,” my mom said gently.
“Me too.”
Dad leaned forward again. “What happened back then? You and Keaton went from being in and out of each other’s houses to not speaking for almost a year before you left.”
My stomach turned. “I hurt him,” I confessed.
“How?” Mom asked.
“There was a party after a football game senior year,” I began.
“Keaton and I already had plans that night. His mom was gone, and I was supposed to leave the party early and head to his house. But I drank too much and lost track of time. He texted to check on me, and I asked him to pick me up since I’d driven there and knew I shouldn’t drive home.
He came inside because I wasn’t answering when he got there.
” I swallowed. “I pulled him into a bedroom and kissed him.”
Mom’s breath caught.
“Ridgway walked in with a couple guys from the team.”
“Westly Ridgway?” my father questioned.
“Yeah.”
“I never liked that kid.”
I snorted a small laugh. “You had good instincts.”
Mom touched my arm. “What happened?”
“I panicked,” I admitted. “I shoved Keaton away and pretended he’d tried to kiss me. Like I didn’t want it. Like he’d come onto me.”
“Ro,” Mom said, and the hurt in her voice nearly broke me.
“I know.”
Dad didn’t say anything.
“Ridgway believed me. Or maybe he wanted to. I don’t know.
He went after Keaton, and they fought.” My voice dropped as the memory came back too vividly.
“Keaton kept looking at me. He was waiting for me to tell the truth, to say something, to do anything.” I swallowed again, but the lump in my throat didn’t budge.
“I didn’t. I just stood there while everyone assumed the worst about him.
He lay there bleeding, and I still didn’t say anything. ”
Dad closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. When he opened them again, he didn’t look angry. He looked heartbroken for me, for Keaton, and maybe for the kids we’d been.
“Oh, honey,” Mom whispered.
“Don’t comfort me. I don’t deserve it.”
“I’m your mother,” she replied, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I’m going to comfort you even if you don’t think you deserve it.”
“This was more than a mistake.”
“I know.”
“I hurt him.”
“I know,” she repeated softly.
Dad’s gaze stayed on mine. “What you did was wrong, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“But you were seventeen,” he added. “Scared, drunk, cornered by people whose opinions mattered too much. That doesn’t excuse it, but it explains why you panicked.”
“I didn’t just panic.”
“No,” he agreed. “You lied.”
The words landed where they were supposed to.
Mom wiped her cheek. “Did Keaton ever know you were sorry?”
“I tried to tell him.” My voice sounded hollow. “I texted. I called. I went to his house. I knocked on his window. I found him at work. He wouldn’t talk to me, and I don’t blame him.”
“And then you left for the Air Force,” Dad said.
I nodded. “He stood in his room as we drove away, watching through the window while I left.”
Mom’s hand slid down to mine and held on.
“I thought that was the end,” I admitted. “Then I came home, moved into that house, and there he was.”
Dad’s brows drew together. “And you two started again?”
“Eventually.”
“And Devon?” Mom asked.
I pulled away and rubbed my palms over my thighs. “Devon kissed him after Keaton’s fight tonight. I saw it.”
“Did Keaton kiss him back?” Dad asked.
“He didn’t push him away.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I lifted a shoulder. “I saw enough, so I left and came straight here. I have to move out before they come back tomorrow.”
“We’ll help you,” my father offered.
Mom looked at him, then nodded. “We will.”
“I don’t need help.”
“I know,” Dad answered. “You’ve always been able to handle things on your own. That doesn’t mean you have to.”
Mom stood, wiping her face again. “You can use my SUV. The seats fold down.”
Dad glanced toward the entryway. “Where are you taking everything?”
I shrugged because I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
My mother’s expression softened. “Bring it here.”
“Mom.”
“No argument.” Her voice remained gentle but firm. “You’re staying here tonight. Tomorrow too, if you need.”
“I don’t want to drag you into this.”
“You knocked on our door,” she replied. “That’s what you’re supposed to do when your world falls apart.”