Page 55 of The One I Left Behind

Gillian’s gaze shoots to me. She must not remember. Not that I thought she would.

“She lent me her truck to drive your mom home,” I say.

He turns his attention to his mom, then scoffs, storming off. What I assume is his bedroom door slams seconds later.

“I cannot believe this. How sloppy I was.” Gillian has her head in her hands.

“You didn’t throw up,” I say to try to make her feel better.

She stands from the bed and shuts the door quietly. “No. Sloppy as far as being a mom and letting my son see you in boxer briefs and me hungover in my bed with the clear presumption that we slept together.”

“We didn’t.”

She points at the door. “He doesn’t know that.”

“Want me to tell him?”

“No. The damage is done, and you need to leave while I talk to him.” She opens the door and grabs a sweatshirt out of a drawer.

When I don’t move, she takes hold of my arm and leads me out of the room.

“I’ll call you later,” she whispers, continuing to walk toward the front door.

“I like your house.”

She stops at the door, opening it as if I can’t do that myself. “Thanks?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start something.”

Her shoulders relax. “It’s my fault. You don’t have kids. How would you know?” It’s not a knife she’s poking me with, but it feels that way.

“I just wanted to be here if you got sick.” Guilt curdles my stomach.

“I know. I know. But you have to leave now.” She nudges me toward the door.

“Jeez, I feel so used,” I joke, hoping it lightens the mood.

She smiles and stands in the house while I’m on the porch. I’m worried this will forever be us—sneaking around, never free to just enjoy each other. “Thank you for taking care of me. Bye, Ben.”

She moves to shut the door, but I put my hand on it. “Wait… can I have your number?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “You already have it.”

“I do?” After all these years, she’s never changed her number? Don’t I feel like an asshole for never using it.

“Bye, Ben.” She shuts the door in my face.

I stare at the keypad, telling myself I need two questions answered by Gillian, but one is way more important than the other. I want to know who hurt her and where I can find him. Because there’s something behind her flinches. I know there is.

Chapter Eighteen

Gillian

I throw on my sweatshirt and walk down the hallway. How do I explain this situation to Clayton? He already doesn’t like Ben.

I knock on his door. “Clay?”

“Don’t worry about it, Mom.”

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