Page 57 of The One I Left Behind

“Excuse me while I throw up.”

“That’s a warning. You don’t have to agree with my decisions, but you will respect me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

I pat the spot next to me on the bed, and with exaggerated movements only a teenager can pull off, he comes over to me. I take his hand. “I know you’re worried that he’s going to hurt me, and I can’t tell you I’m not scared. But one thing I’ve learned is that not everyone gets a tomorrow. I tried to push him away when he came back, but I don’t want to anymore.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“Just listen for a second, okay? Let Mom give you a little advice even though you know everything.”

He stops talking, staring down at the floor.

I squeeze his hand that’s now bigger than mine. “I’d rather have Ben for however long I have him than pass up this opportunity that might be our last chance.”

“And where do I fit?”

My head rocks back. “Look at me.”

He peeks up at me through his dark eyelashes.

“You’re always number one. No one ever comes before you.”

“Not even Ben?”

“Not even Ben,” I repeat.

He sits there for a moment, and I prepare myself for a tough question because I know this kid. He doesn’t pull any punches.

“Then why do you want to keep it a secret? I mean, you sound like you’re fine if he leaves. Why spend the time you have sneaking around?”

I hate it when he’s smarter than me. “I don’t have an answer for that.”

“You mean I stumped you?” He laughs.

I remove my hand from his and put my arm around his shoulders. “I guess you did, but until I’m ready, can we keep this our secret?”

“As long as we can end this conversation.”

“Sure.”

“And you’re not going to make me have dinner with him and stuff, right?”

I huff. “You’re an important part of my life, and I’d like you two to get to know one another. But I’ll give you time to process first. Does that sound okay?”

He stands and grabs his phone. “Fine. I gotta shower.”

I get up off the bed. When did he get so tall? “Hey, I want a hug.”

He comes over and hugs me. Nothing’s better than when your kid squeezes you tightly. “Jeez, you reek of alcohol.”

I swat him as he jumps out of my arms, laughing. “How do you know what alcohol smells like?”

“Gotta go.” He rushes out of the room.

“Clayton!”

He shuts his door, and I shake my head. I grab his laundry to start the wash.

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