Page 159 of Past the Broken Bridges

He finally looks up at me, those brown eyes distant through the lenses of his glasses.

“You have the future to lose. Trust me, Paxton. That’s everything.” I nod, almost to myself more than to him. “I don’t like what your father has done to you, but he’s set you up for a future that not all of us are going to get. And I’m sorry… I’m sorry that I lied. That I kept secrets. I don’t know what I expected to happen, but my intention was never to hurt more people than I already have. You’re a good person. The kind of person who doesn’t deserve what life has handed you. But it’s not too late. To change it. To take control of it. Sometimes a risk isn’t worth taking if it means giving up what you haven’t even discovered yet.”

His throat bobs as he watches me, his nostrils flaring open and closed before he turns away. I see him wet his lips, swallow, and take a deep breath. Then he asks, “And what about you and your risks? What about the things you haven’t been able to discover?”

I inhale slowly, exhaling as I make eye contact with him. “My biggest risk was coming here. Leaving my family behind. And you know what I discovered?”

He stares at me.

“You.”

His jaw ticks.

“Dixie.”

He swallows again.

“Dawson,” I whisper.

His eyes close.

“I discovered what it’s like to be part of something outside me,” I tell him, hugging my legs to my chest. “I learned what it’s like to have friends. To have…more.”

We fall to silence while he soaks that in.

Then, ever so quietly, I say, “In another lifetime, right?”

He opens his eyes to reveal a glassy gaze pointed in my direction.

I smile. It’s small. But it’s genuine. “You don’t have to stay here, you know.”

He watches me.

Taking a deep breath, I say, “You could go somewhere far, far away and never look back if you wanted to. Away from your father. Away from…all of this.”

The memories.

The pain.

“I do want that, but I don’t know how to get there. This is all I know,” he whispers.

My smile wavers. “Is it? Or it all you’ve allowed yourself to accept?”

Paxton is quiet, his eyes dropping to the ground.

“I read a book once and remember a quote in it about how we accept the love we think we deserve,” I murmur, my chin resting on my bent knees. “But you deserve more than what your father can offer you. More than what I could. Than what even Dawson could. This life”—I gesture around us—“that you’ve made yourself used to can be changed. You don’t need your father. He needs you. That’s the difference.”

He doesn’t look at me.

“You have the ability to do amazing things in life, Paxton,” I say softly, finally getting him to lift his head. “AndI’ll be living vicariously through you from wherever I go after this.”

He blinks.

I blink.

Taking a deep breath, he looks up to the sky.

I give him the time he needs.

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