Chapter 30
SLADE
“Man, we’re all hiding something, but at this point, she doesn’t owe you anything.”
I drop the dumbbells and roll up to rest my arms on my knees.
“I came to the gym to work out and relieve stress, not for an unsolicited therapy session.” I wipe my face on the hem of my shirt.
Carson grabs a set of dumbbells. “Would you rather discuss this over a candlelit dinner and wine?”
I groan, lying back on the bench and lifting the weights for another set.
He lunges and pushes out a breath. “Even better. I’ll call the guys and have them meet us at Crusins. We’ll get the whole gang involved.”
He has a point. He’s kept his freaking mouth shut this time after I told him about Sarah’s panic at me entering her room. I don’t know what that was all about, but it frustrated me.
I don’t like secrets, and even more, I don’t want her to feel like she has to hide things from me. That’s what stings most of all. But I understand trust has to be earned .
I press the weights into the air and lower them, each time needing the strain to release the confusion that’s lingered since that night.
It’s been a week since I sat with her while she burned with fever and anxiety. She shed tears of despair, trusting me with what had happened in her marriage and her worries about what her ex would pull next. But she flipped when I was just trying to carry her to bed.
I would have stayed and sat with her all night if she’d asked me, and that is the thought that makes me want to kick my own ass. I’m happy to excuse myself from where I’m not wanted.
Carson drops his weights, catching his breath. “If you’re going to throw a tantrum every time you get the least bit scared, she definitely won’t be inclined to share personal things with you.”
“I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’m just steering clear of a situation that doesn’t involve me.” I ignore the grenade he dropped about me being scared.
He scoffs. “So, that’s it? You’re mad she didn’t want you in her room, and you’re done with her now?”
He makes me sound like a jerk.
I drop the weights, having had enough. “I’m not doing this again. I was building my entire fucking life around someone who liked to keep secrets and hide things.” I huff a laugh. “Shit, she was living a double life. With someone else.”
He drops his hands from his hips. “Slade, she was nineteen. How many dumbass mistakes did you make?”
I can’t think about it, but I know Melissa rises to the very top of the list. I choose not to respond.
“Exactly, you’ve got to let that shit go. I know it was hard, and you were hurting in so many more ways than one, but Sarah is a mom. She’s lived a whole lifetime before you, and you need to let her tell you about it. When she’s ready.”
I want to stomp out of here and not listen to any more of this. Especially when he might have a point.
He places his weights back on the rack. “This stuff takes time. You’ve got to be patient and realize not everyone will disappoint you. Not everyone will break your heart.”
He sounds confident, but I’m not so sure.
Everyone I should have trusted broke my heart.
First, the man who provided sperm and nothing else.
Then, my mom for making so many stupid decisions and also leaving me way too soon.
And Melissa, when I was only hanging on by a thread, she snipped that line and left me to drown without looking back.
I don’t want to be patient. I want to know with certainty I won’t end up there again.
He grabs his towel and turns back toward me. “Besides, I’d bet my entire paycheck you haven’t told her a thing about you.”
I grab another set of weights, not wanting to address that. I lunge. He’s right. I haven’t told her anything because I don’t talk about it. Talking about it makes me feel weak and pathetic. I have to relive watching my mom die and not being able to do a damn thing about it.
“Are you done now?” I switch legs.
“Working out, or trying to knock some sense into your hard-ass head?”
I roll my eyes, pushing out a breath. “Both.”
He throws his towel over his shoulder. “I have to get home and call my brother. He’s called three times, so something must be up.”
I almost grin at the irony, finishing up my set. “What was it you were saying about being scared?”
He points at me. “Don’t even. It’s not remotely the same.”
I set the weights on the rack, breathing hard. It’s my turn to place my hands on my hips. “Oh, really. You avoid your family and everything you left behind. That has nothing to do with fear?”
His head lolls to the side. “If you wanted to talk about messed up shit, I’ll raise and re-raise you.”
I only know a little about what Carson left behind, but I can’t say I blame him.
I follow him toward the exit. “So, you have no plans of ever returning to the business your family built?”
Carson’s passion is construction. He’s meant to be amongst wood and finishings, not grease and broken machines.
He shrugs. “I’m not ready. Not sure if I ever will be.”
“Maybe you need to make more than a phone call.”
He stops, turning toward me. I want to smile. I push him just like he pushed me. Payback is a bitch .
“I have something to sort out first. Then, maybe I’ll think about facing my family and finding out if I want to be a part of it again.”
I roll my eyes. Him and his grand plans.
I wish I had a plan. It might be comforting.
I drive home, trying my damndest not to think about everything he said. I stand in my dark living room, staring at the small brick bungalow across the street. A dim light filters through her windows, and I wonder if Sarah is studying.
I could message her and ask, or I could give it time. I debate which is better for my heart.
I’m no good at patience or being smacked with the truth.
Carson is right. Sarah doesn’t owe me a thing, and I have to be ok with that.
More than that, I have to quit being so afraid.
Life is about risks, and if I never take one, I’ll be stuck here forever—scared and lonely, and having absolutely nothing worthwhile to show for it.
I exhale, letting that realization and every jagged edge of it settle uncomfortably. Recognizing and admitting it is one thing. Actually doing something about it is entirely another.
All I know is I’ve got to figure out something better than this.