Chapter Fifteen
My mind is a mess.
The more I think about Gwen this morning and her accusation that Rowdy was too possessive, the more bewildered and frustrated I become.
Rowdy’s…something.
But that’s just how the men in my family are.
They’re overprotective, fierce, and don’t really care what anyone thinks about it.
If Rowdy weren’t here and Ryder or Ronan or even Dad were, it’d be the same way.
They would distrust everyone, worry I was going to die or be taken advantage of, and hate the idea of me dating someone.
Speaking of Weston.
I listen to his text again.
Weston: Want to go on an adventure after your therapy is over? Mom said she thinks she upset you and that you might need cheering up.
“Wait,” a voice chirps from the stall next to me. “Are you dating Weston Simmons?”
Nosy much?
The voice is familiar. Thatcher and Angelica introduced me to some other people at lunchtime in the cafeteria. I think this girl’s name is Claudia.
“Yeah,” I say, a question in my voice. “Why?”
She chuckles, the sound raspy. It’s definitely Claudia. I remember her laugh was strange but recognizable. “Because, if so, I’m jealous. Anyone with working eyes says he’s so hot.”
Neither of us has working eyes, so we have to take their word for it.
“But,” she continues as she flushes the toilet, “he’s also super sweet. Not a lot of nice guys these days.”
I finish up in the stall and then make my way to where the sink is. Everything is motion-sensored, spitting out soap, water, and paper towels without much effort.
“Are you going to text him back?” Claudia asks, bumping into me. “Ask if you can bring a friend.”
I giggle at her insistence. “He’s a one-woman kind of guy, I think.”
“A girl can dream,” she says with a dramatic sigh. “Want to exchange numbers? You can tell me all about it later and I can live vicariously through you.”
Since this is a more reasonable request, I instruct my phone to add Claudia and her number to my contacts. She does the same for me.
“Did we just become best friends?” she asks, tugging me to her for a hug. “You smell like a boy. Did you make out with him before showing up here today?”
Claudia is intense, but I like her.
“No making out,” I assure her. “I’ve been staying in my cousin’s room. His cologne is obnoxious.”
She leans in so close that I can smell cinnamon on her breath. “Is he the one everyone around here talks about? I’ve heard rumors.”
Rumors?
I’ve barely been at this clinic long enough to have created rumors.
“My friend Renee, Angelica’s older sister, isn’t blind. She told me she’s seen you twice now in the parking lot with some guy who seemed a little rough with you.”
Heat floods to my cheeks and I wonder if there is anyone around to witness my embarrassment.
“That’s my brother,” I say curtly. “And he’s not rough with me. That’s just how he is.”
But apparently, people have a problem with Rowdy.
“Renee did say he was hot, though. Set me up. I like a good spanking every now and again.”
“Claudia!”
She cackles, the sound raspy and unique. “What? If you’re vouching for him being a good guy, I’m into it. Tell him I’m not a virgin. I know things. Ooh, I can come spend the night with you and then sneak into his bed—”
We’re interrupted when some people walk past us, chattering loudly. I fumble for her and grab whatever part of her I can snag.
“You can meet him if you want, but he’s kind of shy. Plus, I think he has a girlfriend.”
“You think?”
“Uh, yeah. Lila.”
“Boo,” Claudia says with a huff. “Know any more guys? The ones around here are boring.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
We both snort with laughter.
I think we did just become best friends.
“What sort of adventure are we going on?” I ask, once settled in the passenger seat of Weston’s car. “You’re being so vague. Are you luring me out to the woods to kill me?”
The joke falls flat and I realize why as soon as I spit it out.
Someone was actually killed in these woods recently. I even thought it was my brother. Ugh. Awkward.
Weston reaches over and grabs my hand. “You’ll like it. I promise.”
I’m grateful he skips past my stupid joke. My phone alerts me to a text and I instruct it to play it.
Rowdy: why is he bringing you home i can pick you up I dont mind
I dictate what I want it to say and send to him. The only weird thing about having my phone play things out loud for me is that everyone around me can hear, which isn’t always ideal.
Me: I’m good. Talk to you later.
Once I stuff my phone back in my coat, Weston speaks up.
“So,” he says, drawling out the word. “We going to discuss what Mom thinks she upset you about?”
I cringe, not at all wanting to talk about that. Her words caught me off guard and frankly hurt. “She was out of line. I think she knows it.”
He’s quiet for a beat. “Are you going to elaborate or am I supposed to guess?”
“Are you going to defend her because she’s your mom?”
“Hell no. I know she can be overbearing. Figured you would want someone to talk about it with, though.”
I sigh heavily and then give in. “She thinks my brother is possessive.”
“I see.”
“Do you agree with her?” I ask, voice rising with challenge.
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I know he’s kind of bossy where you’re concerned. Definitely overprotective. Treats you like a child.”
Oh yeah? If that were so, then why did he almost have sex with me? Why did he touch my lip so reverently?
“But I get it,” Weston rushes out, a smile in his voice. “If I had a sibling, I’d probably be that way too. Mom is an only child as am I. She probably just doesn’t understand the family dynamic.”
This answer satisfies me. He’s right. Gwen doesn’t understand our family or the men in it. They’re protective to a fault, but that’s also what makes me love them.
“We’re here,” he announces as he parks the car. “Ready?”
I clutch onto my new white aluminum cane I was given earlier today.
We practiced using it, too. At first, it was strange, but I quickly grew to like that I could walk faster with it because I could check the space around me for objects, walls, or people.
The point was independence and functionality.
Weston opens the door and I climb out. I’m grateful he doesn’t snatch my arm and drag me around like some people do. If he offers his elbow, I don’t see it. Instead, I use the index finger grip on the cane handle with it facing twelve o’clock and midline with my body just like I was taught.
“Follow me,” Weston says in a teasing manner.
I listen to him yammer about school again—his go-to conversation when he wants to fill the silence with something—and use the sweeping arcs with my cane, tapping at eleven and one of my imaginary clock, making sure my area is clear to walk.
It’s a little awkward at first, but I eventually manage to walk in step, tapping the ground on the opposite side of the foot doing the stepping.
I’m walking unassisted in a foreign place.
This is so cool.
The grin on my face makes my jaw hurt. I wish Mom and Dad could see me now. When I get back to the cabin later, I’ll be eager to show everyone my new way to move effortlessly.
“Hurry,” he says, excitement in his voice. “They do it every day at four on the dot.”
Confused, I hurry along, thankful for my cane.
“The entrance is here. Two steps up and I’ll have the door open for you.”
I follow his instructions and navigate the steps on my own without assistance. I’m giddy by the time we’re inside a warm building that smells like cedar.
“Through here.” His touch is gentle on my back. “Narrow doorway in three, two, one.”
Once inside another room, he shows me to a place to sit. It’s hard wood like a bench.
“What is this place?” I ask, heart pumping with anticipation.
“You’ll see. Shh.”
Seconds go by and then I hear a loud gonging sound.
It takes me a second to catch on it must be a giant church bell.
I’ve read about them in books but never heard one before.
The cadence is persistent, each previous gong echoing into the next one.
After fourteen gongs, it abruptly ends, the echoes turning soft until I can’t hear them anymore.
“Where are we?”
“St. Peter’s Cathedral,” Weston says. “My parents got married here. I’m going to get married one day here too.”
“Why fourteen gongs at four in the afternoon?”
“Before they built this cathedral, one of the priests was killed in a fire in the original church, saving fourteen children from perishing. He succumbed to smoke inhalation, but not before making sure every child was safe. It happened at four in the afternoon. Every day at this time, they honor him and the fourteen kids by ringing the bell.”
“That’s sad but also beautiful.”
“Come on,” he says, another grin in his voice. “Now I have to show you another cool place.”
After he helps me out of the cathedral, I go back to using my cane to lead the way. We don’t go back to the car, but instead walk down a sidewalk. This really is an adventure.
“I used to come here all the time when I was a kid. When I got older, I was too busy to come. But since you’re new here, I thought you’d like to give it a try.”
We come to the building and he instructs me there’s a wheelchair ramp or steps and that I can use whichever I feel more comfortable with. Since I need the practice, I go up the steps. I hear a tinkling of a small bell and then the scent of something decadent swirls around me.
“Welcome to Arnaud’s Confectionary,” a woman calls out. “If you like sweet over sour or sour over sweet, we don’t care, as long as you eat!”
“She’s never been here before,” Weston reveals. “First-timer.”
“Ahh, we do love us one of those,” the woman says cheerfully.
“Arnaud’s has been around since the Great Depression.
Dale Arnaud came up with clever candy recipes he could make inexpensively using ingredients local to town.
In a time where people didn’t have much money to begin with, much less extra for sweets, Dale made sure it was accessible to as many people as he could.
And he always gave everyone samples. That way, the people who couldn’t afford it could still have a taste.
Just let me know if there’s something you want to try and I’ll get you a sampler cup going. ”
I’ve never been in a candy store before, but Ronan read me Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl.
I can’t help but imagine this place filled with treats made by Mr. Willy Wonka himself.
Weston takes me along the display cases, describing each and every candy and telling me which are his favorites.
He’s a really good guy and this is a fun adventure.
Once I’ve traveled the store twice and sampled enough that my stomach starts to hurt, he has the lady bag up my favorites. He even carries my bag for me while we walk back to the car. And when it’s time to leave, he stops me, a light finger on my jaw.
“Can I kiss you?”
I nod because I want him to.
His lips press to mine, and it’s sweet, like the candy.
But I can’t help but feel like it’s missing something.
After the adventure we just had, I’m disappointed and I don’t like myself for feeling that way.