Chapter 66
Bowen
Say it. Sayitsayitsayit.
Kit went rigid against my chest as soon as the movie ended. That was damn near five minutes ago. I can't pull my nose from his hair long enough to say anything.
I'm scared that if I open my mouth, too much will come out.
I don't think I have ever had that fear before in my goddamn life.
So I just sit here, breathing him in. Rubbing his arms and shoulders. It does nothing to ease his tense frame.
“You're leaving, right?” His voice comes out small. I fucking hate that, too.
“I don't want to,” I murmur to him. But as soon as the words leave my mouth, he rolls away and stands. He makes grabby hands like he's trying to bundle hoodie sleeves in his fists that he doesn't have on.
Come with me, kitten. I love you. Please don't make me go back there alone.
“So.” He scratches the side of his head, then crosses his arms, not looking at me. Gone is the guy who was giggling over the kiss in The Notebook, or the one that curled into me during the end of IT.
I sigh and climb to my feet. Once again, there is space between us, and I don't know how to close it.
I love you. I love you so fucking much, I'm sick without you.
“So,” I say, hating the word. Hating this moment.
I want to beg him on my knees to come home with me. But that wouldn't be fair to him. He was just talking about jobs this morning. What he wants to do, figuring it all out.
His parents haven't seen him. His brother. He deserves time with his family. Time to reclaim the life he put on pause to heal. He deserves stability and his family.
But fuck, I'm already wrecked just thinking about more mornings waking up without him with me. Days wondering what he's doing. Nights aching for his skin on mine.
I don't want him to feel like he has to choose me. I want him to choose what he wants. What he needs.
So tell him you fucking love him!
“So, we…what?” he asks, a pained laugh falling flat between us.
“You can text me. Call me. Come visit when you can. If you want.” Pack your shit. Get in my truck and come home with me, baby. Please.
He squints at me, like it's painful to look. “Come visit. If I want?”
You're fucking this up, Briggs.
“I'll be there.”
Kit nods several times, gathering our dirty dishes and garbage. I turn off the TV and fold up the blanket. By the time I set it on the pile, Kit is already gone from the room.
I find him in the kitchen wrapped in a hug with Mom. “Don't be a stranger, you hear me? I let you have your time, but I'll hunt you down if you disappear again.”
Kit's crying again, but there is a small smile on his face. Just for her. Definitely not for me because it slips when I walk up behind her.
“I'll be back, I promise,” he says to her. Then he's stepping back, looking away, and wiping his wet cheeks.
“Ma,” I say, placing my hand on her shoulder.
“You're leaving too, huh?” She's got shiny eyes, but they're so full of love and hope, I can't see the pain anymore.
“Yep. Long drive home, and I've gotta be up early.” I wrap her in a hug, kiss the top of her head. My heart drops down to my feet when the back door clicks shut behind us.
“That boy loves you something fierce, Bowen.”
I don't respond, just squeeze her again before grabbing my keys and heading out.
He's leaning against my truck with his arms folded across his body. Defensive. Protected. From me.
Say you love him, you goddamn coward.
“I…” I start, then choke up when his tired, pain filled eyes look up at me.
Sunset has washed the sky with hazy orange. Pretty soon, it will be gone all together. Pretty soon, I'll be back home, trying to sleep in sheets that I left smelling like him from the other night.
What I want more than him in my bed and in my home and filling my life with life again, is him happy.
I want him to find a passion. I want him to make friends who don't know who he was before his soul tasted loss.
I want him to share because he wants to.
I want him to find new reasons to smile. Reasons to push through another day.
I want him to visit the lake when he wants to feel close to Brett, or when he needs reminding that there will always be someone there waiting for him. If he needs me. If he wants me.
I need him to want to stay.
Please, baby…
“Thank you for today, Bowen.” His voice is small, but strong. “You don't know how much that meant to me.”
“Don't thank me. I needed it, too.”
The crickets are starting to wake up, and the coming night is bringing a breeze with it. Kit's hair moves with the wind, and my fingers itch to run through it. “Did you mean what you said last night?”
I'm not sure which part he means, so I just nod. “Every word.”
“Me, too.” The silence stretches for a few heartbeats too long before he moves away from the truck.
I love you, Bowen.
I love you, Bowen.
Kit walks back to his parents’ house with his head down, and I've never hated anything more.
I stop the truck at the stop sign down the street and scream, beating my hand against the steering wheel.
I suck in a shattered breath down the road. In. Hold. Out.
I turn the truck around in an empty parking lot and tug at my hair by the root until my scalp is screaming in pain. I pull back out the way I was headed.
I don’t even make it to the highway. I drive the truck down one road after another until I pull off the asphalt completely and cut the engine. I ignore the thick silence and lean over, grabbing what I need from the glove compartment before stepping out into the night.
The owner of the property has allowed nature to swallow up this corner. Tall grass and weeds cover the area, but they’re not tall enough to hide the mangled tree in the midst of the few other perfect ones off the side of the road.
The bark on one side is darker from damage, but the years have smoothed out the worst of the rough edges. I fall down on the worn patch in front of the tree and pull my knees up.
The night is warm, not a cloud in the sky.
The bag crinkles when I tear it open and shake some of the Cheetos out in the grass next to me. I bite into one for traditions sake, but chew slowly. It may as well be saw dust on my tongue.
The breeze cools the wetness on my face and I close my eyes, thunking my head back against the trunk.
“Laugh it up, asshole. I know you are.” I swallow thickly and set the bag down, wiping my clammy hands down my legs and trying not to choke on my heart that’s lodged in my throat.
“I can’t fuck it up this time, Brett. Don’t let me fuck this up.”