Waiting on his steps, I cross my arms against the chill in the air. I shift from foot to foot until the door swings open.
And then he’s there, filling the doorway like he always does. Bare feet. Navy sweatpants. Gray t-shirt. He looks tired, and my eyes zero in on the dark bags under his eyes, certain I’m sporting a similar pair. A layer of dark stubble coats his jaw, and his curls are sticking up in the wrong directions, like he spent all day in bed with his head smushed against a pillow.
His eyes flicker to life when he sees me, but that dazzling smile is nowhere to be found. My heart yearns for it. Aches for it.Because once I see it, the sun will rise and the birds will sing and I’ll know everything will be okay.
I should probably offer up an explanation as to why I’m here unannounced, but my body has other ideas. I rush him. There’s no other way to describe what I do. I barrel into him, my arms encircling his waist and my cheek pressing against his solid chest while I squeeze him as tight as I can. It’s been less than forty-eight hours since I’ve seen him, but it feels like eons.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, and his arms tighten around me. He clings to me the same way I cling to him. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Shh. Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his lips in my hair.
We stand like that for a while, holding each other, and then he tugs me inside, shutting out the cold. As we break apart, reality sets in. My mood dampens once again.
I hate that I came here for a reason.
“I’m sorry to just come by like this,” I mumble, having difficulty meeting his eyes. I focus on his neck instead, my heart pounding as I work up the nerve to meet them. When I do, they look saddened by my apology.
“I’m always glad to see you,” he says softly, and I almost choke on my guilt.
My stomach rolls with nerves as I ask, “Can we talk? In your room, maybe?”
Wes nods, but I can tell by his eyes that he’s anxious about my request. His stress makes my chest ache, even more so when he manages a small smile, clearly putting on a brave face. “Of course, Ives,” he says easily. “I need a break from work anyway, and you’re always a welcome distraction.”
I follow him up to his room and shed my coat, resting it on the dresser, and although I’m well-acquainted with the bed at this point, I opt to sink into the office chair instead. Wes sits opposite me on the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight,and regards me with a hesitant smile. “What do you want to talk about?”
I shift. Swallow. My insides twist, the sandwich I had for lunch threatening to come back up. “The way I reacted to you on Friday was not…” I trail off, searching for the right word. “Normal. The way I reacted to you wasn’t normal, and, well, I’m not sure what conclusions you might have come to on your own, but, um, I wanted to explain.”
I open my mouth to continue and then shut it, needing a moment to gather my thoughts. My hands are shaking, and I tuck them under my thighs, conscious of Wes watching my every move with concern behind his eyes. Judging by the grim set of his mouth and the stiffness of his spine, he knows that whatever I’m about to say is not going to be good.
Still, I can’t form the words. My pulse kicks against my ribs, and I feel a little light-headed. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to remain in control. Trying to gather the courage to say what needs to be said.
We sit in silence for a long time. Too long. But Wes doesn’t push me to speak, somehow knowing that I’m building up to whatever I’m about to say.
Finally, I open my eyes.
“Okay, well. Here it goes.” I clear my throat a little. “M-my, um, junior year of high school, I went to a party. There was a g-guy…” I trail off, the edges of my lips twitching down as my mouth dries up. My eyes drop to my knees, blurry and unfocused. “There was a guy, and he?—”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. DON’T FUCKING SAY IT.
I can’t say it.
I won’t say it.
I suck in a breath and attempt a reroute, looking for the workaround. Searching for the shortcut past acceptance. Settling for vague explanations because it’s all I’m capable of.
I try again.
“Something, um, happened to me. At the party. With him.”
I press my lips together. Clench my teeth so hard they hurt. That’s it. That’s all I can manage, and I can’t tell if it’s enough to convey what I need him to understand. Swallowing past the sudden thickness in my throat, I tentatively look up at the man across from me. His eyes roam my face, processing what little I’ve revealed, and I see the moment he finally comprehends the weight of my words.
The sun sets on Wes’s face. I watch it happen in real time, dark shadow eclipsing his light, and my heart cracks in half. He pales, looking stricken, his features etched with pure devastation. “Ivy,” he breathes, wrecked by my admission, and I try not to crumble right then and there.
I swallow. Shake my head. Do anything I can to downplay and wipe that expression off his face. “It’s okay.”It’s not.“It’s fine.”It’s not.“I just…”
Words escape me, so I shrug.
“Ivy,” he whispers again.
