Chapter 14
Wesley
I spent most of the church service with my head hung low, my elbows digging into my legs. Pastor Charlie’s sermon was hitting me harder than normal. I couldn’t tell you the last time I felt this spoken to.
It’s been three weeks since Addison and I spoke.
I’m not blaming her…I need to be the first to admit I was wrong with what I said.
I’m not stubborn in that sense. I’m…scared.
I hate admitting that. I’m usually not scared of anything, but losing her even more than I already have has me so frozen that I’m afraid I’ll completely shatter if she refuses to forgive me.
Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.
To make it weigh even heavier in my chest, we also discuss it in Sunday school. Addison and I sit across the table from each other. She won’t look at me but I can tell she wants to. The way her eyes look up but find someone else to settle on instead seems forced.
Last week she left as quickly as she could. But this time, I’ve had enough. I follow her wavy brown hair all the way out to the parking lot.
“Addison,” I call out, just before she reaches her parents’ car. Her shoulders stiffen when she stops, her back still to me. “I want to talk to you.”
When she turns around, I’m expecting her to give me some smart-ass comment that denies my request. But her eyes…her eyes are pleading. They’re glassy, the whites turning red. My chest caves in at the sight.
“I want to say more than just sorry. Can we go for a drive? Or I’ll be combining later, you could come?”
She’s ridden with me in the combine before, but it’s her busy season with Dakota Flight, so it sorta conflicts.
“Will you be out late? I’m pretty busy with work today. We have a big group coming in tonight.”
“I’ll be out late; it’s supposed to rain tomorrow. It’ll be midnight, at least.”
“Okay. Sure.”
“Text me when you’re ready?”
She nods, her smile is soft and guarded.
* * *
It’s 9:30 p.m. and the combine headlights cast out into the endless dark field, the soft hum of country music drowning out some of the engine.
Addison had just dropped into the buddy seat beside me, her legs crossed and tucked up under her.
She doesn’t have any makeup on and her hair’s damp from a shower.
She’s in gray sweatpants and a zip-up sweatshirt to match.
A sweatshirt that takes me back to a night in Cole’s field at just sixteen years old.
Three Years Ago
There’s a bonfire raging in the middle of a field, sparks shooting up every few minutes, making everyone jump and take half a step back.
Cole’s got a speaker blaring from the cab of his truck and the group of seniors is passing around a handle of Jack like it’s communion.
I didn’t think Cole’s older brother would be here with his friends or I probably wouldn’t have come. They can get out of hand—case in point, they just went on a beer run even though there’s still plenty here.
Addison is standing off to the side, talking to a couple girls. She looks comfortable, like she doesn’t mind being here, but I give it an hour before she’s ready to go home.
Within a few minutes, she’s standing back beside me, away from the lit cigarettes and loud laughter.
She pulls her sleeves down over her wrists and wraps her arms around herself.
“You cold?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
She nods. “Do you still have that extra sweatshirt in your truck?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Of course I do. I keep it behind the seat for her because I know she never wants to carry a sweatshirt around. And if she’s anxious, she doesn’t want one anyway. She wants to be cold.
It’s gray and not even my size. It used to smell like the detergent my mom uses, but now it just smells like Addison. I’ve never washed it because it’s always just been hers.
“I’ll grab it,” I tell her, already turning from her.
When I bring it over, she sighs with a thanks before putting it over her head. She pulls out her tucked hair and fixes the sleeves.
I just nod and stuff my hands in my pockets to keep myself from getting too close.
She goes to say something but gets distracted when headlights shine on us from behind and we look over our shoulders to see who it is.
Cole’s older brother is back but with a truck bed full of more friends than he left with.
The music blares from the windows and they’re yelling the words to a Kenny Chesney song.
“Got more beer!” someone shouts, and I watch Addison roll her eyes and rub the back of her neck, taking a deep breath.
They all hop out and cross over to the bonfire, a case of beer in each one of their hands.
“Why can’t we just hang out sober,” Addison mutters to me, her body stiffer than before and her arms crossed.
“I don’t know.” I shrug.
Everyone acts like they just came back with gold. I sip on the drink in my hand and follow her closer to the fire. She holds her hands out in front of her to warm them up and the flames flicker in the reflection of her eyes. She’s not looking at me or the fire, she’s watching everyone’s every move.
Someone suggests having shotgun races, another wants to play beer pong on a dropped tailgate.
“Hey.” I nudge Addie with my elbow, and her eyes are quick to find mine. “Let’s get outta here.” I gesture towards the truck.
She points to the cup in my hand. “But you had that beer…”
I lift it over to her. “Smell it.”
She gives me a skeptical glare but does it anyway.
Her brow furrows. “It’s water?”
I laugh. “You think I’d drink and then drive you home? Come on, Addie.”
She shakes her head like she can’t believe I thought that far ahead.
But I always do, with her.
She just smiles and takes a few steps back. I throw a wave over to the guys, tell them we’re heading out, and follow her to my truck.
Maybe tonight’s the night it’ll click and she’ll see it. That so many of the things that I do are for her.
Like the fact that she’s the reason I came tonight. The reason I don’t drink. The reason I keep that sweatshirt in my truck.
* * *
My grip on the steering wheel tightens as I muster up the apology I’ve been rehearsing for the last twelve hours.
The conversations I had with my dad and Jesse still ring clear in my head, even though they happened three weeks ago. They both called me out, saying I loved her. And I didn’t deny it.
I know I love her. But I’m not going to admit that to her yet, not when she’s someone else’s girlfriend. Unfortunately, I’m respectful enough to keep it to myself.
And if I’m being honest, I hate myself a little for it.
She reaches to turn the radio down. “I’ll start.”
“No. I need to go first,” I argue.
The silence that follows is brittle. I take a deep breath.
“I should’ve never said what I said.”
“I shouldn’t have either,” she mutters.
“No, just, please let me talk first.”
She sinks back into her seat and tucks her lips together.
“Clearly, you really like this guy, and it’s not my business to get involved. You’re my friend and I want to support you.”
She doesn’t say anything at first, just traces her nail over her leg, so I wait.
“Maybe I’ll just stop bringing him up around you. I think I let you hear too much of the bad and not enough of the good, and that’s on me. I did a bad job at making him sound like a good guy. When he really is most of the time.”
My jaw is clenched so tight, I wouldn’t be surprised if I cracked a couple teeth. But I’m determined to get over this bump in the road with her, so I push the feelings down.
“That’s good. And I guess you’re probably right. I was just missing those good parts. You never tell me anything like that.”
“I’m not a braggy person though.”
“I know you’re not. So, I get it. Alright?”
She looks down at her hands, like she wants to say more.
Her voice is less steady than before. “I don’t like fighting with you,” she whispers so quietly I can barely even hear her.
“I don’t either. I’m sorry for overstepping.” The words scrape against my tongue before coming out.
“It’s okay. I know you just care about me. You’re like another brother.”
Ouch. Brother? Please.
“Another brother you don’t necessarily need, right?” I laugh it off, just like I always do.
She snickers and shifts in her seat, just as the combine rocks slightly. We both reach to steady ourselves, our hands brush against each other’s for only a second, but it felt longer.
“Sorry.” She laughs.
If she only knew every random touch from her jolts something inside me that I have continuously had to ignore.