Page 28 of If You Never Come Back
“Wait.” It comes out more like a gasp than a word. When I blink, tears tumble down my cheeks. I grab him by the wrists and pull him to me. “I know your life was hard growing up, but you don’t have anything to be ashamed about. It made you who you are today, and I love you. Every single thing about you, I love. Yeah, this is rough, but we can make this—us—work.”
Wes’s stony expression flinches when I say the word “love.” But it’s true. Even though I wish I could have said it in a different setting, when we’re not hurt and angry and on the verge of collapsing, I mean it. I’ve never fallen for anyone this fast, this hard before. I love Wes, and I want to mend this rift between us. I want to make everything better. All I want is him.
A beat later Wes’s beautiful face is hard again. For endless seconds I wait for the words, for him to tell me he loves me too, that he’ll stay so we can work things out. But all I get is my name on his lips. It’s cold, unfeeling. My chest cracks in half. I never thought that Wes speaking my name could break me.
“Shay,” he repeats. It’s hard, unrelenting, and not at all like the man I know. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“What?” My voice is strangled, I’m so shocked by his reply.
“Marriage, family, kids, huge surprise gatherings with relatives.”
“Wes, I’m not asking you to marry me or have kids or—”
“But you want all that. Eventually. Right?”
I stay silent, stunned at how he’s using this as a reason to leave me. I open my mouth to object, but I can’t. Because Wes is right. I want all of those things. What happened today with my family was an annoying surprise, but it’s part of my life. Deep down, I couldn’t imagine not having kids one day, my own family to bring to one of my mom’s giant surprise gatherings.
His frown deepens the longer he looks at me. “I know we never talked about it, but…look, I thought I could get on board with family and kids someday, but after today, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle any of that.”
“You could handle Colin’s family,” I finally say. It’s such a pathetic argument to make, but it’s all I can come up with to try to get him to reconsider.
“That was different.” He sighs, almost like he’s annoyed that I’ve brought that up. “It was just him, his parents, and me. And I knew them for years.”
Loaded silence takes over once more as I process what he’s saying.
“You want everything I don’t, Shay,” he says. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
I won’t lie, but I can’t bring myself to say the words. So I stay quiet.
“This is too much. I can’t handle it. I’m meant to be on my own. And you belong with someone who wants what you want.” He stops speaking as his voice starts to break.
When he walks toward the door, I’m right behind him. When he reaches for the doorknob, I reach for his hand. This time, when I turn him to me, when I hold his face in my hands, when I press the front of my body against the front of his, he doesn’t move away, he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t reject me.
I will myself to stand against him, still as stone. We could stay like this forever. I would do it if it meant that I could keep him with me.
“I love you, Wes. Please stay. Please give us a chance.” I pause to steady my voice despite my urge to sob.
Snot and tears cover my face, which I’m sure is as red as the paint on my canvas. I am every shade of pathetic, there’s no doubt. But his frown, his unfeeling stare says it all.
“I can’t. I’m sorry, Shay.”
One step back and one turn around are all it takes for him to escape me. When the door shuts, he’s gone.
I don’t run after him. I stand, silent sobs shaking my body, the knowledge of how little I meant to Wes as clear as the sunlight shining through my window.
I don’t even collapse from the sadness. Instead, I stay standing, right where he left me, a statue once more.
Chapter Nine
The two empty tequila bottles on my coffee table say it all.
One week since Wes and I broke up, and I’m a disaster. Dirty laundry and dishes scatter my apartment. I haven’t bothered to make my bed in days. I can’t remember the last time I showered. For seven straight days, all I can remember doing is alternating between sitting on my couch and sleeping on it, with long stretches of guzzling tequila whenever I thought the pain in my chest was going to kill me.
I sit up and stare out the only window in my studio apartment. It’s sunny, but I have no idea if that means it’s morning or afternoon. My phone died yesterday and I haven’t bothered to charge it.
I glance at my phone, still dead on the coffee table. It’s not like it would make a difference if my phone was even working. Not once has Wes called or texted since leaving. The only way I even know that he’s alive is because I texted Colin a few days ago asking if he had heard from him. Because texting your ex’s friend after he breaks up with you is only a tiny bit less pathetic than texting your ex.
But that got me nothing other than an apologetic message from Colin saying that he didn’t know where Wes was headed, just that he was gone.
