My hand comes to my mouth as I bite back more tears; no more crying for tonight. I know he’s trying to fix things, but I wish they could be fixed without me having to be broken all over again.
Chapter 25
Willow
My alarm goes off, and I’ve never dreaded the sound more in my entire life. I tossed and turned so many times last night that the blankets are a knotted mess. A reflection of my mental state right now.
Weston’s words replayed in my mind all night. Part of me is relieved, and part of me is utterly gutted. How could he do that? I know he was young and dumb, but when he realized it was a mistake, he never came for me. I spent half the night wrestling demons inside my head, telling me to go and knock on his door. I don’t know what I’m expecting him to tell me or what that’s even going to do, but I want to talk to him because no matter what he says, I still can’t make sense of it. There were a million options out there, and he thought leaving me was the best one, even if it was for my sake, which I’m not entirely sure I believe he didn’t even care enough to loop me into the conversation.
Being mad at him when I thought he completely deserted me for no real reason was easier. Now, I have to deal with the fact that he left me because he thought it was the best thing for me. But it wasn’t. I almost failed out of school because of how heartbroken I was. The amount of shitty dating decisions I made after him is insane.
I tried so hard to love every single person I came into contact with, thinking that if I loved them, I wouldn’t love him anymore, and if I didn’t love him anymore, I wouldn’t hurt. And maybe I’d find someonewho’d want to stay. The only thing that taught me was to depend only on myself, because people are characteristically unreliable. So I learned to rely on myself.
I sit on the edge of my bed, swinging my legs over the side while rubbing my eyes. I thought seeing West on all the other days was hard. I don’t even want to think about what today’s going to be like.
Begrudgingly, I get ready, and I put on my favorite clothes. Because if I feel good on the outside, it may help with the inner turmoil. When you look good, you feel good, and when you feel good, it’s easier to handle the chaotic disaster that is my life. At least that’s what I’m going to tell myself.
I crack my door open and peek around like I’m some sort of teenager trying to sneak out. This is ridiculous. I am a grown ass woman. I live here, and just because things are about as clear as mud between us right now, doesn’t mean that I cannot walk down the hall normally.
Wanting to get it over with, I walk down the hall and down the stairs. The smell of bacon hangs in the air. Weston is nowhere in sight, but my coffee sits on the corner of the counter like always. I walk to it and see the note.
Breakfast is ready in the oven, should still be warm for you -West
Walking over to the oven, I pop it open and see all the fixings for breakfast in there: bacon, scrambled eggs, and some toast. Closing it, I look around. Maybe he’s left already. I’ll have to see if his truck is in the garage.
Walking over, I swing open the door and peek my head inside. What I find are years’ worth of memories that I thought were gone forever, sitting on the shelves inside his garage. The old truck he had in high school still sits there.
I hear rolling, and Weston pops up from under the truck. He has a shop towel he uses to wipe his hands, and grease stains on his shirt and jeans. “Good morning, did you find the breakfast?”
“Yeah, but what’s this?” I look to the truck; every single memory we’ve had in that truck plays through my mind.
“You said you missed it. I tracked down the guy I sold it to and got it back.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. He looks back to me, where I stand speechless, he takes a deep breath and seems to debate his next words. “I got rid of it because it reminded me of you. I couldn’t look at it, but now that you’re here, it felt…wrong not having it. So I got it back.”
This truck was his baby in high school; it never had less than half a tank of gas, it was always clean. I was shocked to hear he had gotten rid of it. Now that I know why, my heart breaks for him. It breaks for us. We are in such a fickle spot, I don’t know how to move forward, or what forward would even look like.
He continuously shows me that I can trust him and pushes me to the edge of falling for him. There’s only so much digging my heels in I can do before I’m thrown from the ledge. Last time, it hurt, but what would this time look like? I’m too scared to think about it.
All the anger I had felt is gone, a bit of melancholy and forgiveness linger instead. I’m not over it, I’m not even sure I've fully processed it all, but today, I think I need to try something new. Try to do what I would have done years ago: lead with kindness.
“Are you at a stopping point? I was just going to eat breakfast,” I offer. It’s the world's shortest olive branch, but it’s all I have right now.
“Yeah, I can be. Are you sure you want me to eat with you? I get it if you need space.”
He’s so God damn respectful of me, it’s equally annoying and sweet. “I’m okay. Let’s eat.”
He smiles, tender and soft, and inside, I feel the ice fall from my heart. My armor is gone; what comes next will be up to him. “Okay, Sunshine.” He finishes wiping his hand clean and throws the rag in the garbage. He nods to the door, to start heading that way, and places his hand on my lower back, guiding me inside.
Trying to ignore how utterly aware of him I am, I ask, “What do you guys have going on at the ranch today?”
“Well, we have to separate the calves from their moms, so most likely I’m gonna get my ass kicked. That’ll be fun.“ The mental image that flashes through my brain, and I feel guilty for the bit of joy it brings.
“Funny enough, my schedule just opened up. It looks like I’m free for the show.” I laugh as I say it.
He steps in front of me, leveling me with a look as he sweeps past me to open the oven. “Ha, ha, very funny. You know you’re always welcome to tag along with me whenever you want. If the office and cabins start to make you crazy, some fresh air and cows might help.”
Those things are all lovely, but the thing that grounds me the most is him, but I get the feeling he knows that already. “Actually, I love the work I’ve been doing; my boss is a bit annoying, but it’s my first project, so micromanaging is to be expected.”
He brings the tray of food to the table, laying it down on the center. The cloth and runner are still on it, a harsh reminder of last night. “Do you need me to talk to him?”
