But it’s a start.
“I think that’s enough for now,” I say softly. “Nothing we just shared excuses everything that happened over the last few weeks, but hopefully it sheds some light on what we’ve been through.”
“It does,” Noah quickly replies. “Thank you for telling us.”
I rise up out of Ty’s lap, making eye contact with him. “I’m going to lay down for a little while.”
Chapter thirty-three
Mercer
My joints ache, yet I can’t stop gripping the rough wooden banister. It’s far too cold to be outside for long without a coat. Yet here I am, planted on this porch, unable to go back into the house and face the reality of my actions.
He was neglected and abused.
His father locked him in afucking cage.
Then I came along, didn’t like his attitude, and shoved him in a fucking locker.
“Enough.”
Startled, I whip around, finding Noah on the opposite end of the porch, arms crossed over his chest.
He’s wearing a coat and beanie, appropriately dressed for this kind of weather.
I cock one eyebrow in defiance. “Enough what?”
With a heavy sigh, he drops his arms. “You’ve beaten yourself up enough already.”
He approaches, each step steady and measured. “Careful out here,” he mutters. “A few of these boards look like they’ve seen better days. I was going to replace them this weekend, actually.”
I scan the planks beneath me, but with such heavy snow and so much wind, they’re barely visible.
Without any more commentary, he sidles up beside me, looking out at the snow-covered yard. It’s really coming down now. It’s like we’re in the center of a well-shaken snow globe.
“I feel terrible,” I admit, keeping my gaze forward.
“I know.” He wraps one arm around me.
Deadpan, I add, “I also still despise him.”
My best friend’s shoulders shake as he chuckles quietly. “You despise what you know based on limited information you had until now. You thought you had to compete with the kid.”
“He’s not a kid,” I counter.
“No. He most certainly is not.”
It’s been easy to put Tytus Tremblay in a box—to label his actions as juvenile, immature, and reckless. He’s a student. A hot-headed athlete. There are so many small, insignificant labels I wanted to give him because I wanted him to be small and insignificant to Sawyer, and by extension, to me.
But when I look at the full picture, when I consider everything he’s endured, his accomplishments are mystifying. To be a highly accomplished athlete, to make it this far without any real support, structure, or supervision is impressive. Then there’s the care and concern he showed for Sawyer last night. It was deep and real and selfless. There is no doubt in my mind about his capacity to love and his willingness to be with our girl.
He fucked up. I fucked up.
Yet the most significant difference is that he’s actively trying.
While I’ve all but given up.
I’m both ashamed and wildly frustrated with myself.
