Page 35 of In the Stars

After I swallow roughly, I say, “But it would have been worse if you hadn’t. I probably would have died, either being killed by Perry and his friends he wanted to pimp me out to or taking too many pills to escape the pain. I didn’t get away completely, but I was able to live a semblance of a life.”

He hisses, his eyes looking tortured now. I hate to burden him with this, but I want him to know why this apology is necessary, why it’s so important. He helped me. He knew it would end our friendship, and he did it anyway. Looking at it that way—the only way it should have been—made me put aside my old heartbreak to see the situation for what it really is.

My salvation.

With despair etched on his face, he says, “I wish I had…I don’t know, done something different to protect you.” A tear streaks his cheek, and I itch to wipe it away so he’s not hurting for me. “You came over all the time, and I wasn’t aware of…what else…what else was going on.”

“I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want you to think I was weak and let it happen.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” He implores me with his eyes to believe him.

“I know that now. But in my young mind, the drugs clouding my thoughts, I couldn’t sift through the bullshit.” I sigh as I push my plate away. “I’m sorry, Jaxon. I’m sorry forhurting you and cutting you out of my life when all you wanted to do was help me. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course,” he tells me earnestly. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

Lightness tingles along my limbs, and my heart feels unburdened. A relieved chuckle leaves my lips. “Thank you. Man, that was difficult. I’ve made amends with pretty much everyone I hurt, but you were the one I was most worried about. I’m glad we could talk.”

“Me too.”

“You’re the reason my dad found me, did you know that?” I ask. He shakes his head. “Suzette left with me and didn’t tell him. We lived near Long Beach when they were married, and when she took off, we went to NoCal. California is a big state, and Dad didn’t have much money to afford a private detective. He looked as much as he could, but Suzette was good. She covered her tracks well, then with Perry, it was easier.

“After the cops and doctors got me cleaned up, they somehow got in contact with him, and he was able to come get me. I got to reconnect with my father because of you. I’ll forever be in your debt for that.”

He smiles but shakes his head. “No, not my debt. I’m glad I could help. Really.”

Tightness fills my chest, but I force myself to ask the next question. “Do you think…can we work on our friendship?” One of his eyebrows ticks up. “It’s a lot to ask. There are no hard feelings if that’s something you’d rather not do. But the two years we were friends were the best years of my life. I had someone there for me when I had no one. Even when I moved away, I never met a friend like you.” My mind flashes briefly to Vic, but I push that thought away, my urge to use strong when memories of him surface. “I just…I want a chance to rebuild what I fucked up.”

“Wesley,” he says, sounding unimaginably sad. “I want to, I really do, but is that best for you? I’m sure I bring up bad memories, and I don’t want to jeopardize your recovery. Maybe…think about it some more?”

He’s right. I’m swarmed with good memories when it comes to him, but the persistent thoughts of betrayal and guilt are too strong to ignore. At least right now.

It’s hard to admit, but I agree with him. “Okay. I’ll be in town for a few more months, I think. I’m not real sure. Hopefully with a little more therapy and visits with my sponsor, I can work through my feelings so I can take that step.”

“No rush,” he says, his hand twitching again as if he wants to touch me. “I’ll be here if you’re ever ready. If you never are, thank you for the apology. And I wish you well in the future.”

Standing from my seat, I pull out my wallet and drop some bills on the table. I tap the surface, wanting to tell him that I’ll be fine, that I can control how I feel about the memories, but that would be horseshit. The swirls of emotions that bubble inside me some days are so strong they nearly paralyze me. What’s to say his presence won’t trigger something for me, and I won’t search for the nearest location to buy some booze to numb the pain?

No, I need to speak to Jared and my therapist to see how to process everything so maybe we can get back a semblance of what we had before.

So instead of saying something rash, I say, “Take care of yourself, Jaxon.” Then I turn and walk away.

FIFTEEN

WESLEY

“Would you like to have a seat?”my therapist asks me, tucking her legs under her body on her wide, fluffy chair. I look back at her and give her a small grin.

I really like her. She’s the complete opposite of Doctor Steinfeld, who is an older white guy with short cropped gray hair, rigid and uptight, always following the rules and doing things step by step. There was never a hair out of place, and he was as buttoned-up as they came. He reminded me of the drill sergeants I would see in movies.

Doctor Amira Banks, or Mirrie as she wants me to call her, is a younger Black woman about my age that dresses in flowy dresses with a lot of long chains and wears her hair in a beautiful afro. She has a permanent smile on her face, and her sleepy eyes always make her look as if she’s on the verge of some great discovery.

While Doctor Steinfeld worked well and helped me when I needed it the most, I like Mirrie’s approach better. During our sessions, we talk, going back and forth instead ofher firing off questions at me and making me feel like I’m under a microscope.

I shake my head as I look out of the window, the overcast sky matching my mood. Swirls of gray twist in my belly, and I question everything.

“Is it okay if I stand here for a moment? My head is all fucked up.”

“Did something happen?” she asks conversationally, and it sets my shoulders at ease. I don’t get the vibe that she’s asking me because she’s paid but because she might care about what I have to say.

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