“I don’t, but what I see standing in front of me is a man who is working on himself, someone who isn’t going to let his past scars define the person he is today.”
“I’m sorry.” Austin sniffled and wiped away his tears. “You were probably asking for something like I-hated-the-last-chocolate type of confession, and here I am telling you my entire life story.”
I offered a sympathetic smile and looked back at the table. “The last chocolate you gave me did suck.”
He chuckled. “Shall we head back to the car?”
I nodded, and he gathered what we hadn’t touched, and we walked down the dark path together.
“Is that what you were talking about on the phone the other day at school?”
“When?” he asked as he reached down and grabbed my hand, threading his fingers through mine. It was a quick, effortless motion, but like there was such a need to hold on.
“You were talking to someone on the phone about health insurance. Is that what you were dealing with with your ex?”
“No. I truly haven’t seen her in four years, have no idea where she is.”
It must have been unbearable for him, living with the crushing weight of guilt and shame, believing that he’d hurt her, carrying that burden alone all these years. The fear that he waslike the man he despised, with no one to talk to about it, was almost too much to imagine.
“I haven’t found closure with myself.”
I squeezed his hand and bumped his shoulder with mine. “I think you’re pretty special, Austin. You help your mom out with your kid sister, you saved me from the Loch Ness monster?—”
He chuckled and squeezed my hand.
“You also helped me with this bucket list.” I sighed contentedly. “She consented to having sex with you?” I wanted to be sure I understood what he was saying from earlier.
“No. Yes. She did, but I was... selfish about it.”
“You were a kid. It was a long time ago. You’re right—you need to find a way to forgive yourself and remind yourself that you aren’t like your biological father. We’re all human, and we all carry scars; some are just easier to see than others. Everyone struggles every day to become a better version of themselves. You’re not alone in that.”
There was a long silence before he said, “Thanks for letting me vent.”
“I asked for a confession.”
He tugged on my hand again. “Guess I served one on a platter.”
I shrugged, although I wasn’t sure he could see it in the darkness. “Nah. You were honest.”
We got to the car, where Austin held the door open for me before getting in the driver’s seat. He drove back down the same road we came in on, his hand quickly finding its home on my thigh.
“Wait,” I asked as we pulled onto the highway. “What was that phone call for? The one at the school? You never answered me.”
His blue eyes flickered in the dim light from the traffic signals. “Long story short, my health insurance kicked me off,and I need meds that help.” He let go of my thigh and held up his hand. I stared at it, trying to deduce what I was looking at. “They keep the shakes and cravings at bay. Without them, I’d be a mess.”
“You said you coach hockey?”
“Yeah, but it’s not full-time, so no health insurance comes with it. I’m trying to figure it out, but that call... it was the insurance company reminding me how fucked I am.”
How shitty was that? To be stuck in a place where you were doing the best you could but still felt like the system was working against you. It must’ve been terrifying to depend on meds just to keep things steady and have the rug pulled out like that.
One of the good things about teaching, despite the pay not coming anywhere close to what my brother, Jacob, made, was the health insurance. It was one of those rare comforts—a safety net I could count on. It made me realize how easy it was to take that for granted when someone like Austin had to fight tooth and nail to get the meds he needed for his sobriety.
“I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”
“It sucks, but I’ll figure it out.”
I sighed and sank into the seat. “Our whole healthcare system is fucked. I don’t get why I have a job and have access to great health insurance, but then you have a job and need care immediately and don’t.”
