Page 20 of If You Never Come Back
The sound of Mom clapping sets echoes inside my car. “Wes, hello! So nice to talk to you! Tell me about your—”
“Mom, we’re not doing this on speakerphone. We can talk about that some other time.”
She huffs her disappointment.
“Mrs. Alexander, before you go, I can walk you through how to access Skype, if you still want to try.”
“Oh, yes! Thank you, that would be so helpful! What a nice young man you are.”
Over the next five minutes, Wes patiently walks her through it. When she finally pulls up Skype, she cheers.
“Wes, I want you to come by the house sometime,” she says. “Such a kind young man, you are. Your parents must be so happy to have such a sweet and helpful son.”
I squeeze his hand as he blushes. “Looking forward to it, Mrs. Alexander. Thank you.”
I say goodbye before she can hammer out an exact date.
“Sorry about all that.” I toss my phone in the center console.
“Don’t even worry about it. Your mom sounds sweet.”
“She is. Just super overbearing when it comes to her kids. Always wants to know everything we’re up to. She practically freaked out when my older brother moved to Japan for his job. That means I get the bulk of her attention since we live in the same time zone, only a half-hour drive away.”
I realize Wes hasn’t mentioned his parents at all since we got together. “Does it bother your parents that you’ve been off the grid hiking the past few months? My mom would flip her lid if she couldn’t get a hold of me every few days. Thank god my dad is there to calm her down.”
I expect a chuckle or a reassuring anecdote about his parents, but all he gives is a murmured, “Not really.”
The way he white-knuckles the steering wheel even though the road is clear makes it obvious. Family is not a subject he likes to talk about.
“It’s just…” he says, his tone gentler this time.
“I didn’t mean to bring up family stuff if it’s a sore subject. I’m sorry.”
Wes’s chest heaves in a sigh. He turns his head to me and offers a sad smile. “I want you to talk about your family whenever you want. From everything you’ve said, they sound like wonderful people.”
Eyes back on the road head, he exhales. “I’m not close with my family. At all. I don’t have siblings. My mom died when I was little.”
“Oh my god. I am sorry. I had no idea.” I cradle his right hand in both of mine, pressing a soft kiss to his palm.
He shakes his head, pulling his hand out of my grip. He clamps it back on the wheel, his eyes straight ahead. I drop my hands to my lap, swallowing back the pain squeezing my chest. That tiny gesture, that small moment of denied contact speaks volumes. This is an off-limits topic and not even my touch makes it easier to cope.
“I lived with my dad after my mom died, but he wasn’t around much.”
His eyes remain glued to the road. This time when he speaks, his voice is hard. It’s like a switch has flipped. Soft, sweet Wes is no longer there. The person sitting next to me in the driver’s seat is a steely, closed-off version of him.
“I don’t like talking about it,” he says.
The stiff clench of his jaw, the way muscles in his jaw bulge against his skin illustrate that perfectly.
“Okay. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s fine.” The harshness of his tone, the way he won’t look at me tells me it’s anything but.
I peer out my window, studying the scenery as it whizzes past. Minutes pass, all of them silent. I have no right to feel that clench in my chest, the tension in my neck, or cross my arms. Wes and I are still technically in the early days. Expecting him to deep-dive into his family issues with me is absurd.
I silently repeat this over and over in my head. But then his hand touches mine. I twist my head to look at him. There’s tenderness in his face now. It helps me forget the minutes of tension that just passed between us.
He pulls the car over and turns to me. Leaning closer, he clasps my face with both of his hands. “I’m sorry for how I acted just now.”
