“Did he apologize?"
“No.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Clayton turn his head to see me before turning his attention back to the road.
“He told me how he never wanted kids and how he didn’t love me.” I suck in a sharp breath, finding the courage to tell him. “As I got older and got angry, lashed out, and did whatever I did to try and fix myself, I apparently turned into every kid he hated. It’s why he was always so hard on me and never saw me no matter the good I did.”
“Your own father admitted that he didn’t love you?”
“Yes.”
“Why did he stay?”
“He loves my mother enough to put up with me, I suppose.”
“That’s fucked up. I don’t know how someone couldn’t love you. I do,” Clayton says, matter of fact.
“What?”
“Oh. I mean. Just, you’re great. How couldn’t someone-”
“You love me?” I finally turn to him.
“I don’t think I should express my feelings,” he says, quiet.
“Why?”
“Last time I did you broke my heart.”
As he says that, he pulls into the driveway of a tiny home. It looks like a shed. I’ve seen pictures of these kinds of homes online. I’ve always wanted to see one in person and now that I’m here and seeing one, I can’t seem to be bothered to care.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Clayton. Do you want to know why?” I say, looking right at him. His green eyes bore into mine.
“Why?”
“BecauseI love you.Do you still not trust me?”
“I trust you a little bit more each day,” he confirms.
“I trust you. I trust you with my life, my heart, my everything. This is it for me, pretty boy. This is everything to me,” I proclaim.
“You’re here!” I hear a woman yell, interrupting our conversation. All that fear I had about meeting his parents was gone on the way here, distracted by us talking about my parents.
It’s back.
Clayton and I both get out of the car. The woman, who I assume is his mother, goes to him and gives him a hug. She’s swallowed beneath his arms. She’s several inches shorter than him. Her hair is just as blonde as his. When she turns to me, I see that their eyes match too. He is such a spitting image of her.
“Oh! You must be Maxwell!” She cheers, rushing over to me.
“Hi, Mrs. Reeves,” I smile, offering my hand. She bypasses it and goes in for a hug. I hesitate for a moment before wrapping my arms around her small body.
“Please, call me Amy,” she smiles. Pulling away from my hug, she clasps her hands together in front of her chest. “Oh, this is going to be so good! I’m so happy you guys are here!”
“Leave the poor kid alone, Ames,” a man says coming up behind her. “Bill,” he says, reaching his hand out to me.
I take it, shaking it with a firm grip. God, I hope it’s a firm grip.
He’s a balding man, but tall and lean. The same type of body build that Clayton has. Their nose and mouths look similar and it makes me want to smile that I pay close enough attention to someone that I can notice what their nose looks like.
Clayton really is the perfect combination of the two of them. You can see him in both of his parents.
