CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE #2
“You asked me for space, and I didn’t give it to you,” Wes said. “Then I told people you broke up with me because that version made me feel better.”
“I know,” Bee said.
“My mom told me what people would hear, and I posted it anyway,” Wes continued. “I wanted strangers to take my side more than I wanted to protect you.”
The truth landed harder because Bee knew his mother had tried to stop him. This had not been a careless mistake made without warning. Wes had chosen the relief of being defended and left Bee to absorb the cost.
“I knew what people did to you online,” Wes said. “I watched it happen before. I defended you when people twisted things, and then I gave them something they could use against you.”
The ache returned quickly enough that Bee hated how easily she could still feel it. Weeks had dulled the pain, but those comments had left a mark she could not pretend was gone.
“You knew they would come after me,” Bee said.
“Yes,” Wes replied.
“That hurt more than the breakup,” Bee said.
“I understand that now,” Wes replied.
Bee shook her head. “I don’t think you did then,” she said.
“No,” Wes admitted. “I didn’t.”
Bee believed him. For weeks, she had wanted him to understand what he had done without making her explain it for him.
The anger inside her did not disappear. It simply stopped demanding that she hold it quite so tightly.
“I was really angry at you,” Bee said.
“You had every right to be,” Wes replied.
“I hated you for a little while,” Bee admitted.
Wes nodded. “Also fair,” he said.
Bee frowned. “You’re agreeing way too quickly,” she said.
“I’m trying not to ruin the apology,” Wes replied.
That pulled a laugh out of her before she could stop it. Wes gave her a cautious smile when he heard it.
“How am I doing?” Wes asked.
“Still evaluating,” Bee replied.
“Fair,” Wes said.
Bee studied him for another moment. She did not have to keep explaining what he had done to prove that it mattered. Wes had finally named it himself.
Wes shifted the grocery list in his hand. He folded the corner until it stayed bent.
“There’s something else,” Wes said.
Bee raised an eyebrow. “You’re getting a lot accomplished in the flour aisle today,” she said.
“I planned none of this,” Wes replied.
“That explains a lot,” Bee said.
Wes almost laughed, but the sound never came. His fingers tightened around the grocery list.
“You told me you loved me,” Wes said.
Bee went still as the hospital returned in sharp pieces. She saw Wes’s hand lying motionless beneath hers and heard the steady sound of the machines. The fear that he would never wake up and hear anything she said returned with the memory.
“At the hospital,” Wes added quietly.
“I remember,” Bee said.
“I never answered you,” Wes replied.
Bee looked back at him, but Wes had not moved any closer. The distance between them still belonged to her.
“You didn’t have to,” Bee said.
“I wanted to,” Wes replied.
Wes held her eyes. The grocery list crumpled slightly in his fist.
“I loved you too,” Wes said. “I think I already loved you before the accident. I just hadn’t figured out how to say it.”
Bee’s eyes filled, and she blinked quickly. Hearing the words now felt completely different from the way she had once imagined hearing them.
“That would’ve been useful information,” Bee said.
Wes gave her a sad smile. “I should’ve told you sooner,” he replied.
“You have terrible timing,” Bee told him.
“I had plenty of chances,” Wes admitted. “I was too scared to say it.”
Bee wiped beneath one eye and gave him a watery look. Wes held her gaze without trying to take the words back.
“I’m sorry,” Wes said.
Bee laughed through the tears. “You really like that word now,” she said.
“I owe you more than one apology,” Wes replied.
“That’s not something to be proud of,” Bee said.
“No,” Wes said. “I’d rather give you fewer reasons to hear it.”
Bee shook her head while the smile stayed on her face. Hearing that he had loved her did not fix anything, but it mattered.
“I loved you,” Bee said.
Wes’s expression changed to the past tense. He nodded without asking her to take the words back or say them differently.
“I wish I had said it back when you needed to hear it,” Wes replied.
Bee tightened her fingers around the cart handle. She needed to be as honest with him as he had finally been with her.
“I don’t know what I feel now,” Bee said.
“Then I won’t ask you to decide right now,” Wes replied.
Bee watched him for disappointment or an argument. Neither came.
“You’re not going to argue with me?” Bee asked.
Wes shook his head. “I want another chance. Arguing with you won’t earn one,” he said.
Bee stared at him. The answer was so direct that she did not know what to say for a moment.
“That was almost mature,” Bee said.
“Almost?” Wes asked.
“Don’t push it,” Bee warned.
Wes smiled. “I’m learning,” he said.
Bee looked toward the end of the aisle again. Leaving no longer felt like escaping. It felt like finishing her grocery shopping.
“I really do have to go,” Bee said.
“Then I won’t keep you,” Wes replied.
“Grandma will send someone,” Bee warned.
“Probably Maya,” Wes said.
Bee groaned. “That would be humiliating,” she replied.
“She’d bring emergency snacks,” Wes added.
Bee laughed. “She absolutely would,” she said.
Wes stepped backward toward his cart. He did not search for another excuse to keep Bee there.
“Then I’ll let you finish,” Wes said.
Bee nodded and tightened her hands around the cart. The anger no longer felt as sharp as it had when she entered the aisle.
“Bye, Wes,” Bee said.
“Bye, Bee,” Wes replied.
Bee pushed the cart forward again, and the broken wheel rattled loudly across the tile. She smiled when it pulled left and corrected it without slowing down.
She was nearly at the end of the aisle when Wes called her name again. Bee stopped and closed her eyes for a second. A smile had already appeared when she turned around.
“Bee?” Wes called.
“What now?” Bee asked.
Wes stood beside his abandoned cart with one hand in his pocket. His other hand rested against the cart handle.
“Can I try something?” Wes asked.
Bee narrowed her eyes. “That depends entirely on what you’re about to do,” she replied.
“That seems fair,” Wes said.
He folded his mother’s grocery list once and slipped it into his pocket. Then Wes walked toward Bee slowly and stopped with a few feet still between them.
Wes held out his hand. Bee looked down at it before lifting her eyes to his face.
Her heart beat harder. Wes swallowed, but he kept his hand extended between them.
“Hi,” Wes said. “I’m Wesley.”
Bee stared at him. For one second, she genuinely wondered if he had lost his mind. Then she understood what he was doing.
The corners of her mouth started lifting. Wes waited with his hand still open.
“I can be a jerk sometimes,” Wes continued. “Can I take you to dinner?”
Bee laughed, and the sound came without effort. It was not the nervous laugh she used when she wanted to escape a conversation or the one she used online when she needed people to believe she was fine.
Bee looked up at Wes. The invitation was only for dinner. Wes held out his hand and gave her room to answer.
Bee reached out and placed her hand in his. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Beatrice, but I prefer Bee.”
Wes’s smile appeared slowly, and his fingers closed gently around hers. The tension in his face softened without disappearing.
“Nice to meet you, Bee,” Wes said.
“Nice to meet you, Wesley,” Bee replied.
Their hands stayed together for another second before Bee let go. Wes looked at his empty hand, then back at her.
“Dinner?” Wes asked.
Bee raised an eyebrow. “Just dinner?” she asked.
“Just dinner,” Wes promised.
“No relationship announcements?” Bee asked.
“Absolutely not,” Wes replied.
“No breakup videos?” Bee asked.
Wes winced. “Definitely not,” he said.
Bee fought another smile. Wes seemed relieved that she was teasing him instead of walking away.
“No midnight snack runs?” Bee asked.
“Dinner first,” Wes replied.
Bee tilted her head. “You have rules now?” she asked.
“I’m trying something new,” Wes said.
“That sounds like you've grown,” Bee replied.
“Probably,” Wes admitted.
Bee looked at him while her heart beat too hard over one dinner invitation. Wes waited without trying to fill the silence.
“Okay,” Bee said.
Wes blinked. “Okay?” he asked.
“Dinner,” Bee clarified.
His entire face changed, and his smile grew. Bee pointed at him.
“Don’t make that face,” Bee warned.
Wes frowned through the smile. “What face?” he asked.
“That one,” Bee replied.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Wes said.
“You look way too happy,” Bee told him.
“I’m trying to control it,” Wes replied.
“You’re failing,” Bee said.
Wes laughed, and Bee turned her cart toward the next aisle. The wheel immediately rattled and dragged left again.
“Still fighting for its life?” Wes asked behind her.
Bee looked down at the crooked wheel. “Every time I come here,” she replied.
She pushed the cart several more feet before glancing over her shoulder. Wes had already turned toward his own cart, giving her the space he said he would.
“Wes?” Bee called.
He stopped and looked back at her. “Yeah?” Wes asked.
Bee nodded toward the cart. “You could help,” she said.
Wes glanced at the crooked wheel. “With the cart?” he asked.
“Just the cart,” Bee replied.
Wes left his empty cart beside the shelf and walked over. He placed one hand on the handle beside hers, waiting until Bee shifted enough to make room.
The wheel fought them all the way into the next aisle. When it dragged left again, Bee laughed and let Wes help her straighten it.