Page 108 of The Breaking Pointe
“He thinks I’m sad about a friend, and about Mom.I am sad about Mom, but that guy wasn’t my friend.He wasmyboyfriend,anditendedlikeshit.Ididn’trealize
I liked guys until I got closer to him. So I doubt Colton would understand,” he tells me, sounding defeated.
“I’m sorry, Steven. I guess Cole wouldn’t entirely under- stand, but I’m sure if you told him, he would. He wouldn’t care that you’re into guys.”I try convincing him with my words. He still seems unmoved by anything I say.
“I doubt he would.He can’t even get over his own issues to help anyone overcome theirs.” He shakes his head. “Mom used to say she thought he had some sort of post traumatic disorder because of my dad. If I knew the truth, I couldn’t judge.He keeps it to himself like gold.World’s best kept secret.”
“Thetruthaboutyourdad?”
This would confirm his outrage at the comparisons of the two of the„ amongst other things, like his outbursts.If it’sa secret, then that would explain even more of why the man never talks about anything. Doesn’t mean I should know it, though.
“I uh…don’t know,” he says.
“Never mind. It’s none of my business—forget I brought it up?” I half smile.
He weakly perches his lips to the side to smile back.
As much as I’d like to know everything about everything, some things are better left unsaid.If I stick around long enough, maybe I’ll get the answers I’m looking for.I can wait for them because I’ve been waiting long enough for someone to care about me the way Colton does. If I can wait as long as I did for that, then waiting for him to break out of his shell shouldn’t be hard to do, either.When brighter days come, I’ll forget about me even thinking like this.
Making pancakes from scratch is one of the many ways
my mom would make me feel better when I was sad. I might be a grown woman now, handling grown up downfalls, but you’re never too old for yummy pancakes. Especially ones with cinnamon and chocolate chips.I haven’t had a bad critique yet.Steven is now another respectable victim of delicious goodness.
After a long attempt of trying to concoct my best version of my world class pancakes, I hoped that maybe the smell of syrup and hardiness would fill the house enough to carry Colton all the way out, but no.It’d been some hours since my first step into the kitchen this morning. Enough time to feed Steven three whole pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Everything that makes for a perfect morning meal, but enjoyed by only Steven and I. Still no Colton.
“He’ll come out eventually,” Steven says, stuffing his mouth with a large bite of fluffy pancake and syrup.
“What?” My eyes bat as I look at him, poking at my last pancake.
“You just look worried. Or scared. One of those two,” he clarifies.
“Oh.” I glance at him. “Yeah.”
“It’s only twelve. He has to come out at some point. Oth- erwise, Bonnie’s gonna have to go bug him.”He chuckles, breaking off a piece of his bacon before eating it and handing off the smaller piece to Bonnie, who’s been sitting beside him, waiting for her reparations.“Ain’t that right, Bon?”
I smile, watching him.Very much a Kennedy boy.They seem to have the same, wholesome characteristics. Makes me wonder if Steven is my own peek at what Colton used to be like.
Twolonglegscoveredinplaidpajamapantsstepfootinto
the kitchen, the feet dragging to the fridge.Above the legs is a grey shirt with red stain soaked into it in various places, and a groggy looking Colton with puffy eyes and messy hair. It’s amazing what one week of no shaving can do.I won’t say it isn’t sexy—but it’d be a lot sexier if I knew it wasn’t because he’s too deep into his depressive state to shave it.
“Morning,” he mumbles, opening the refrigerator and retrieving a water bottle before closing it. He rests his back against it, watching as Bonnie immediately trots over to him, reacting by holding out a hand.
“Hi,” I say softly, watching his weak movements.“I made pancakes. They might still
be warm.”
His head moves left to right, denying my offer.“I’m okay, sweetheart.Give ‘em to Steve.I don’t think I can eat anything,” he says.
Steven looks at him, a mouth full of food, but shamelessly devouring it as he speaks, “Why’s your shirt got red blotches all over it?”
“Uh…it’s wood stain. Nothing bad.” Colton pinches at his shirt before yawning.
Steven takes another bite of his food, continuing to stare at Colton.
I bite my lip softly as he comes my way and glides past me, kissing my messy hair and pushing his glasses up.
“Did you sleep at all?” I swivel my chair into his direction, looking up at him while grabbing his waist.
