Page 118 of Altius
But Cal was asleep in my bed. And too many people knew my shameful, destructive secret now.
It was too late. My mouth was open. Purging the truth.
Out it came. All of it.
The frustration and self-loathing.
How much I struggled to string two words together at first. The monstrous behavior. That I’d compose paragraphs of horrid, typo-ridden, berating, belittling texts, lobbing insult after insult at my parents, only to delete them.
At first.
When the rage got too intense, demanding I hit the send button to find relief, I sent them to myself.
But it did nothing to help the hair-trigger of my temper.
I hit Pops because he brought me the wrong pair of tennis shoes. Blew up at Dad for trying to touch me during a back spasm. Yelled at Papa for buying a throw pillow in the wrong shade of indigo.
I whined and cried, throwing a full-blown snotty tantrum because Mom didn’t crisp my bacon correctly. Why should I eat when everything was tastelessandthe texture was ruined?
And Jenna was there, trapped in the corner, watching me explode with wide, terrified eyes the entire time.
Too afraid to move, too scared to make a noise, instead of getting help with her math homework. Forcing herself to eat meals ruined by my outbursts. Earning a tongue lashing for every compliment or bit of encouragement she tried to give me.
And then, one day, when she came to tell me dinner was ready, I struck her square in the sternum with a four-pound pharmacology textbook and traumatized my eleven-year-old sister so badly she refused to be in the same room with me for months.
Clutching at Wyatt’s sweatshirt, I splattered my fears against his shoulder.
“It’s like…like part of me is trapped there, fused to my desk, forced to throw that book on an endless loop, hitting her overandoverandover—forever—because it’s anactualmemory. Something I didn’t forget—that Ican’tforget.”
Why did I have to live with so much anger?
Even now, at this moment, pouring my heart out, it still ran too close to the surface—a throbbing vein in search of a sharp object.
“But I know there’s more. More things, worse things, that I don’t remember saying or doing to her. But IknowI did. I must have. To my parents, too. And Kelsey and Jacobi—and—and you.” I begged Wyatt to put me out of my misery. “What did I say to make you leave? To never call or text again. Why did youleave? I didn’t… Tell me I didn’t say all the awful things Ethan and Jacobi say I did.Please.”
Wyatt pressed his cheek against my forehead and held me tightly—oh, so tightly. Trying to erase the lingering sting of his prolonged absence.
“It doesn’t matter now.” Wyatt forced me to look at him. “Iknowyou. The real you. How brilliant you are. That you’re strong. Confident. Amazing under pressure. Quick on your feet. Sarcastic as fuck.Noneof that changed. And you still care. So much. About your patients. Your inner circle. Your family.”
Wyatt scoffed, looking rueful.
“Hell, you probably think it’s a failing that your friendship circle shrank after your accident. Because you think it’seasyto be someone’s best friend for thirty fucking years—but Morgan, let me tell you. It isnot. You only make itlookeasy.” He poured a quiet, self-aware laugh into my ear. “Fuck, I don’t even know if I’d last thirty minutes alone with Jacobi, and I like the guy.”
I sniffled, wiping my wet face on the back of my arm. “Excellent tolerance without specialist training, if you ask me.”
Wyatt brushed a lingering tear away with his thumb. “Please don’t sign me up.”
“But I didn’t get you anything for Christmas.”
Teasing Wyatt felt good. Almost as good as being in his arms.
“You know what I want.” His blue eyes had taken on that misty, otherworldly quality again. More mesmerizing than piercing, more intimate than intense. A slow seduction. Drawing me ever closer. “But I’ll settle for the free intimacy pass. Can I have it back?”
I nodded.
Wyatt pressed our chests together. My hands sank into those soft, wavy lengths of black hair. And we kissed.
It was a mutual joining, not driven by ravenous desire, but rather a shared need for reassurance. A light but steady touch. Unmoving. Reliable. I basked in the firm yet gentle pressure of his mouth against mine.
