CHAPTER NINETEEN #2
“Stop saying that,” he snapped.
His mother's expression changed. “Saying what?”
“That you know,” Wes replied.
“I do know,” she said.
“No, you don't,” he told her.
His mother studied him. She did not argue or tell him how many hours she had sat beside his hospital bed. She stepped away from the doorway and gave him the distance he had demanded.
“I'm going to give you some space,” she said.
“Mom,” Wes replied.
“It's okay,” she assured him.
His anger collapsed beneath regret. “I'm not angry at you.”
“I know,” his mother said.
Wes closed his eyes when she walked away. Her last answer held none of the teasing from before. He had wanted space. The room felt worse when she gave it to him.
A knock sounded at the front door a few minutes later. Wes frowned toward the hallway before looking at the door. His mother had not returned from the back of the house.
“Are you expecting somebody?” Wes called.
“No,” his mother answered from down the hall.
Wes moved carefully to the door and opened it. Bee stood on the porch with a paper bag pressed against her chest. For several seconds, neither of them said anything.
The last time he had seen her, tears had followed her into the hospital hallway. Now the bruises remained along her arm. Her eyes looked tired. She had still come.
“I brought food,” Bee said.
“For my mom?” Wes asked.
“I learned from you,” she replied.
“Smart,” he said.
Bee tightened her hold on the bag. “I thought maybe we could talk.”
Wes stepped aside. “Okay.”
Bee entered and glanced toward the living room. She noticed his phone lying on the couch with TikTok still open. Then she looked back at him.
“I saw your video,” she said.
“That was fast,” Wes replied.
“You came up on my feed,” Bee explained.
“I just posted it,” he said.
“I know,” she replied.
His mother appeared from the hallway and smiled when she saw Bee. She looked between them before reaching for her purse. The change happened so quickly that neither of them could pretend not to notice.
“I just remembered I need something from the store,” his mother said.
“You went this morning,” Wes pointed out.
“I forgot something,” she replied.
“What?” he asked.
“Something,” his mother answered.
Bee gave her a small smile. “Hi.”
“Hi, sweetheart,” his mother replied.
“Mom,” Wes said.
“I'm leaving,” she announced.
The front door closed behind his mother. Bee placed the paper bag on the coffee table and remained standing. Wes could feel the conversation waiting for them before either of them spoke.
“She's subtle,” Bee said.
“She thinks she is,” he replied.
Bee looked over at him slowly. “You look better.”
“I feel worse,” Wes admitted.
“Physically?” she asked.
“Everything,” he replied.
Bee sat in the chair across from the couch instead of beside him. The distance felt deliberate. Wes noticed the empty cushion next to him and hated that he had no right to ask her to take it.
“I came because I didn't like how we left things,” Bee said.
“Neither did I,” he replied.
“I was angry,” she said.
“I noticed,” Wes replied.
Bee's expression tightened. “Do you want me here?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Then don't do that,” she said.
“Do what?” he asked.
“Make little comments instead of talking to me,” Bee explained.
“I said I want you here,” Wes replied.
“You also sound mad that I'm here,” she said.
“I'm mad at everything,” he admitted.
Bee nodded once. “Okay.”
“I can't work,” Wes said. “I can't drive. My truck is gone. Everybody keeps telling me how lucky I am.”
“You are lucky,” Bee replied.
Wes looked away. “I know.”
“You can be lucky and angry,” she said.
His attention returned to her. Bee held his gaze without asking him to be grateful or positive. Something inside him loosened before fear pulled it tight again.
“You survived something horrible,” Bee continued. “That doesn't mean you have to be happy about everything that came after.”
“That isn't what everybody else thinks,” Wes said.
“I'm not everybody else,” she replied.
Wes looked toward the phone on the couch. “Apparently I am.”
Bee frowned. “What does that mean?”
“I sat there smiling into a camera and told thousands of people I'm doing great,” he explained.
“You don't have to do that,” she said.
“That's easy for you to say,” Wes replied.
Bee went still. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You know how to do this,” he said.
“Do what?” she asked.
“Turn everything into content,” Wes replied.
Bee stared at him. The softness in her face disappeared. “Are you seriously using my job against me?”
“I didn't say that,” he answered.
“You didn't have to,” she said.
“That isn't what I meant,” Wes replied.
“Then explain what you meant,” Bee said.
He searched for an answer that would pull the words back. Nothing came. “I don't know.”
Bee looked down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “We keep ending up here.”
“Where?” he asked.
“You say something hurtful,” she explained. “Then you tell me you don't know what you meant.”
“I'm frustrated,” Wes said.
“So am I,” she replied.
“I lost everything,” he said.
Bee's face changed. “Everything?”
“My truck is gone,” Wes replied. “I can't work. I can't do anything without my mom helping me.”
“You didn't lose everything,” Bee said.
“It feels like I did,” he answered.
“You still have your home,” she told him. “You have your mom. You have people who care about you.”
“I know that,” Wes replied.
“Then stop saying you lost everything,” Bee said.
“You don't understand,” he told her.
Her eyes narrowed. “What don't I understand?”
“What it is like to wake up and not be able to do anything you normally do,” Wes replied.
Bee stared at him. “I was in the same accident.”
“That isn't what I mean,” he said.
“Then stop talking to me like I wasn't there,” she replied.
“You can still work,” Wes said.
Bee's face went still. “What?”
“You can sit with your phone and work,” he continued. “You can make videos. You can edit. You can still do what you do.”
“You think that means none of this affected me?” she asked.
“I didn't say that,” he replied.
“You keep telling me what you didn't say,” Bee said. “Say what you actually mean.”
Wes looked down at his sling. His voice dropped when he finally answered. “I mean I'm stuck here. I mean I don't know who I am when I can't do anything.”
Bee's anger softened for a moment. “Then say that.”
“I feel useless,” he admitted.
The words left him exposed in a way the video never had. He hated the silence that followed. He hated that Bee was now looking at the part of him he had tried to hide from everyone.
“You aren't useless,” Bee said.
“That's how I feel,” Wes replied.
“I know,” she said. “You are allowed to feel that way. You don't get to make me feel guilty because I can still work.”
“I'm not trying to make you feel guilty,” he replied.
“You are doing it anyway,” Bee said.
Wes shifted against the couch. Pain moved beneath the sling before spreading through his ribs. His anger returned because it was easier to hold than the shame underneath it.
“I don't need another person telling me what I should feel,” he said.
“I'm not telling you what to feel,” Bee replied.
“You did at the hospital,” Wes said.
Her eyes flashed. “We're really going back to that?”
“You told me I wasn't allowed to blame myself,” he reminded her.
“The accident wasn't your fault,” Bee replied.
“You don't know what was going through my head,” he said.
“Neither do you,” she answered. “You barely remember it.”
“Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention,” Wes said. “Maybe none of this would have happened if I had seen the car sooner.”
Bee's shoulders dropped as if the fight left her all at once. “There it is.”
“What?” he asked.
“The same thing again,” she said.
“It hasn't gone away,” Wes replied.
“I cannot fix that for you,” Bee said.
“I never asked you to,” he answered.
Her eyes filled with hurt. “No. You keep throwing it at me and acting surprised when it hurts.”
“Maybe you shouldn't have come over,” Wes said.
The words entered the room before he could stop them. Bee went completely still. The hurt vanished from her face beneath an emptiness that frightened him more. “Okay.”
“That isn't what I meant,” Wes said quickly.
“Of course it isn't,” she replied.
“I'm angry,” he said.
“At me?” Bee asked.
“No,” Wes replied.
“It feels like you are,” she said.
“I'm angry at everything,” he told her.
Bee nodded slowly. “I'm standing here, so I'm convenient.”
“I didn't say that,” Wes replied.
“You don't have to say everything out loud for me to understand it,” she said.
“I don't know what you want from me,” he admitted.
“I wanted to talk,” Bee replied.
“We're talking,” Wes said.
“No,” she answered. “We're arguing.”
“Maybe there is nothing else to talk about,” he said.
Bee stared at him. The meaning of his words settled between them before he understood what he had done. When her expression changed, Wes wanted to pull the sentence back.
“What does that mean?” she asked. “Are you saying you don't want this anymore?”
“Maybe I shouldn't be with anybody right now,” Wes replied.
Bee flinched as if he had struck her. Her mouth opened before a quiet breath escaped. “Wow.”
“I'm not trying to hurt you,” he said.
“You keep doing a great job for someone who isn't trying,” she replied.
“I don't know how to be what you need right now,” Wes said.
“I never asked you to be anything,” Bee told him.
“You deserve somebody who can show up,” he replied.
“Don't do that,” she warned him.
“Do what?” Wes asked.
“Decide what I deserve so you don't have to admit you're pushing me away,” Bee said.
“I'm not pushing you away,” he insisted.
Bee let out a short laugh that held no humor. “Then what are you doing?”