If only I can get the fucking apology out.
Lightness fills my chest though, because Lana still thought about me. Every time I looked at my band name, I thought of her. When I was clear-headed enough to wonder if I was on the right track, I remembered what she said to me and knew I was. I just wish she were still alive after I got clean so I could have thanked her to her face.
Sighing, I pick up my fork and push the chicken Alfredo around my plate. My stomach is too much of a mess for me to eat. “Listen?—”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Here,” Jaxon says quickly, reaching into his pocket to grab something.
When he puts it on the table and slides it over to me, my stomach plummets, and a cold flush blooms over my skin. The urge to reach for some pills or a drink is so strong it nearly overwhelms me. I have to close my eyes and count backward from ten, reminding myself that I’m in a safe place with a safe person, and I don’t need drugs or alcohol to push through this rough patch.
But fuck do I want it. Anything to get me past this hurt that’s cropped up seeing the key to my mother’s—fuckingSuzette—house.
It’s a key like any other, nothing fancy or different about it. But I know where it belongs—it unlocks the door to a house that held nothing but horrors for me. I was beaten,starved, raped, and degraded within those four walls. I still haven’t been able to wrap my head around why she would leave it to me. She, of all people, should know how much I fucking hated being there. My innocence and my childhood were stolen there. And she contributed to it.
“Wesley?” Jaxon calls, sounding unsure. “I’m sorry. I?—”
“Can you please stop apologizing?” I ask, opening my eyes so I can stare into his gray orbs. Just like when we were kids, they’re grounding, and I take comfort in gazing into them. “You’ve done it a few times since we sat down.”
“Because I feel like I keep fucking up.”
“You aren’t. This isn’t your fault. I just…” I push my hoodie back so I can drag my fingers through my hair. I cut it when I left rehab, and it’s still a shock that it ends at the base of my neck instead of tumbling down my back. “Now would be when I’d turn to my vices to get away from this situation. I know where this key belongs, and my memories won’t stop throwing the worst shit I’ve ever experienced at me because of it. I’m fighting against myself to not go out and find a dealer or drop by a liquor store.” He gasps, but pity doesn’t fill his eyes like I expect, something I’m thankful for. “It’s just a temporary fix though. I could get drunk or high right now, but this key will still be here. The house will still belong to me. So I’m trying to process shit. I might have to make a quick call to my sponsor when I leave here so I can get that extra support, but I’m good.”
“You can…you can talk to me. If you want. I can listen. I’m no professional, but I’m a good listener.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Again, that awkward silence settles in, and we look at anything other than each other.
“Are you?—”
“Have you?—”
We both stop speaking, waiting for the other person to talk. “Go ahead,” I say.
“Are you okay being back here? It can’t be easy.”
I start to say yes, so we can change the subject, but honesty is the only way I can move forward with my life. “I’m notnotokay. But I’m not sure what I’ve gotten myself into. I’m hoping it won’t be as bad as I think it will be, but I’m trying to prepare myself that itwillbe.”
“What are you going to do with the house?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure. I’ll figure it out at some point, I think. For now, I want to look around and see if there is anything…I don’t know, anything that will give me some closure.”
Jaxon nods like he knows what I mean. I’m not sure he does becauseIdon’t know what I mean.
Blowing out a steadying breath, I say, “Jaxon, I want to apologize to you.”
His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “For what?”
“In recovery, we have the twelve-step program. Do you know it?”
“Not the exact steps, but I’m aware of them.”
I dip my head. “When I was in rehab, I started working on the list of people I have to make amends with. People I’ve hurt in my past. That’s Step Eight. Step Nine is making direct amends.” I meet his eyes, and god, his are full of such sadness that I get choked up. “I owe you an apology for how I reacted when we were kids and you told your mom what Perry was doing to me.”
“You don’t?—”
“No, I do,” I interrupt. “I do. I carried that pain and guilt and fuckingangerat you for years. Everything bad in my life was because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut and not tell my secret.”
Jaxon’s hand twitches, as if he wants to reach out to me, but he doesn’t. I don’t like touch, but I never felt that itching, averse feeling when it was Jaxon. I can still remember his touch when he ran his fingers through my hair when I played “In the Stars” for him. It was nice. He was gentle and didn’t expect anything from me.
