31. Chapter 31
Chapter 31
WESTON
I stepped out of the warm embrace of Gray’s house and into the brisk night air. A chill crept over me, settling deep into my bones, but I welcomed it. My aching muscles and heart needed the cold to remind them to function. I moved in the direction of the beach, each step painful, but I hoped the sea air would bring me some sort of clarity that had been absent since the moment I saw Becky’s face. It physically hurt to watch her receive such unwelcome news.
I pondered the revelation that Becky had been hiding her debt from me. My mind was reeling with questions and doubts. Why had she kept this from me?
Relationships, marriage—these were serious commitments. I couldn’t help but question whether I was ready for that level of commitment, especially if it meant weathering any number of unpredictable storms.
I knew I needed to talk to Becky about this, but the thought of broaching the subject made me anxious. How would she react? Or would she even understand my concerns? After all, relationships had always seemed easy for her. Perhaps this was a sign that Becky and I were not meant to be. Maybe we were just too different, too incompatible to make a real go of it.
As I thought about her, I felt a familiar ache in my chest. It was the same feeling of helplessness I had experienced when I’d lost my dad and Jared. It was a feeling that threatened to suffocate me. But this time, it was different. This time, the pain was optional. I could step away from Becky and revert to my original, sensible plan. Stay alone.
I paced the beach for an hour. I only wanted to return once I was sure of my next steps. That was wishful thinking though. I’d hoped the salty scent of the ocean and the sound of waves crashing onto the shore would clear my head. It didn’t. Instead, it became the pounding soundtrack to my uncertainty.
I needed time to sort out my feelings and figure out what I really wanted. So, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t bring up any of this with her until I had slept on it and had a chance to pray about it.
With a heavy heart, I turned around and started making my way back to the house. I nudged open the front door and slipped in.
“There you are, honey,” my mom said. “We were just about to come search for you.”
Why was Mom looking at me like that? “What’s wrong? Where’s Becky?” I asked, an ominous feeling coming over me.
“She left thirty minutes ago in an Uber,” Darcy said from her spot on the sofa, regret in her tone.
“Where did she go?”
“She must have gone home. She left with all her luggage,” Mom said, sympathy in her voice.
I stood in the dimly lit living room, the stillness of the house urging me into motion. Mom’s words kept replaying like a broken record. Becky had left. Gone home. With a sense of urgency, I grabbed my keys and headed out the door.
The drive to the airport was a blur of red taillights and honking horns, my mind fixated on finding Becky. I parked haphazardly and sprinted inside. The clock was ticking down with each step, my heart pounding in rhythm with my strides .
Inside, the bustling crowd was a maze of distractions, but I was, driven by a singular focus. Reaching the ticket counter, I barely managed coherent sentences. “A ticket for the next flight to Atlanta... wherever the next departing flight is,” I demanded, my voice tinged with desperation.
Ticket in hand, I rushed towards security, every second stretching unbearably long. Shoes, belt, watch—everything thrown into the bins without a second thought. I paced through the scanner, barely registering the guard’s nod before collecting my scattered belongings.
The terminal was a world of its own, teeming with travelers. My eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the familiar silhouette that haunted my every thought. And then, there she was, sitting at her gate, a crumpled tissue in hand, her shoulders hunched in defeat.
I approached, my heart in my throat. “Becky,” I called out softly.
She looked up, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Seeing her like this, so vulnerable, broke my heart. “Weston,” she whispered, as she stood.
“I’m sorry I messed up back there. Please don’t leave,” I begged, trying to keep my voice steady .
“I... I have so many issues, Weston. You deserve better than that. I don’t think I can look your sister or mother in the face again. It’s better if we part ways here. It was silly to think it could work out,” Becky murmured, clutching her summons.
“But we can work through whatever it is… together,” I protested, taking another step toward her.
She shook her head, tears spilling over. “I can’t ask you to deal with my problems. They’re mine, and I shouldn’t have let them come between us.”
Before I could reply, the loudspeaker blared, announcing the boarding of her flight. Panic surged within me, mixing with a profound sense of helplessness. “Becky, please…”
She stood up. “I must go, Weston. Please, just try to understand. We can talk another time. I have to go.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
I watched, frozen, as she turned and walked away, her steps faltering slightly. Every fiber of my being screamed to stop her, to pull her back and fix everything. But her words rattled in my mind, seeding doubts. Maybe she was right. Maybe neither of us were ready for this?
As she disappeared down the jet bridge, a part of me crumbled. I had come all this way to stop her, to tell her we could face the future together. Yet there she went, out of reach, leaving me behind with my unresolved feelings and a heart heavy with regret.