Page 6 of Unwanted

No. I keep those stories and secrets close to my chest, because that’s where they belong.

Locked up and hidden.

“When I aged out, I wanted to take Lennox with me, but...” Shaking my head, I think of how hard it was to leave him in that shithole of a place, but knowing I needed to do it in order to build a forever type of life for us. “I busted my ass. Doing anything and everything I could to save as much money as I could. When he aged out, he had a place to live, health insurance, and a football scholarship at UCLA.”

“Did I miss the part that has you looking so ashamed? Because it sounds like you went above and beyond, considering your circumstances.”

I raise my eyes to meet his, surprised that he picked the exact emotion I feel anytime I think of Lennox and everything that went down. “I left, Jordan. I abandoned him.”

I abandoned everyone.

Clem, Remy, Lennox, and Arlo. Those four are my family, and selfishly, I just up and left them.

The silence hangs between us, and I rise up off my chair, certain I’ve already said too much.

Unperturbed, Jordan begins taking a few containers out of the plastic bag. “At least take the food home so you can eat while you’re wallowing before your flight.”

I glare at him, despite how he’s hit the nail on the head. “I’m not wallowing.”

“You’re scared. I get it.” He slides the plastic bag, packed with two containers, across the desk toward me. “But he obviously needs you right now, and that’s all that matters.”

“I can’t eat all this food,” I say, ignoring his advice.

He adds two beer bottles to the bag. “Humor me.”

“Jordan—”

He raises his hand, silencing me. “Just go home. Get a good night’s sleep and check in whenever you can.”

“Thank you,” I breathe out, my shoulders sagging in resignation. “Thank you for everything.”

2

ARLO

Dragging the towel down my face, I wipe this afternoon’s workout off my skin. It’s my second one for today, and since I hadn’t been able to get my mind to switch off since Lennox ended up in the hospital, I was sure I would be back here exerting myself to the point of exhaustion in another few hours.

“Arlo.” I turn at the sound of my name to see a young man I’ve noticed a few times around the gym walking toward me. My eyes take in his rake-thin appearance and hollow eyes. I throw the towel over my shoulder and patiently wait to see what it is he wants. It wasn’t unusual for people I didn’t know to seek me out, or to know of me before I knew them.

The gym I work at and the programs I run have become quite popular in the city over the last two years, something that fills me with both equal amounts of embarrassment and pride.

It’s complicated, just like everything else about me.

There wasn’t a single thing in my life that I didn’t have a love-hate relationship with, my biggest accomplishments included.

“Hey, Arlo,” he repeats, extending his hand out for me to shake. “I’ve been checking out your classes. My friend Jenika recommended them to me.”

My ears perk up at the mention of Jenika, because if she’s the one recommending the gym to him it also means, like the two of us, he’s a recovering addict.

I take his offered hand. “Is Jenika your sponsor?”

He quickly drops his hand from mine, his cheeks reddening as he dips his chin to his chest. My own body fills with a heavy amount of empathy, knowing no matter how hard you try and own your life, the shame never really goes away.

“Hey, man,” I say gently. “We’ve all been there.”

And it was the truth. Recovering addicts were the reason my programs at the gym even existed, but I also knew from personal experience it didn’t matter how early or far you were into your recovery, that self-loathing and humiliation followed you around like a bad smell.

“What is it that Jenika suggested?” I ask, trying to coax some conversation out of him. “If I know her as well as I think I do, she sent you here to fill up your free time.”

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