Page 98 of Promise Me Nothing
The final words I voice come out slightly choked. “And I feel all this guilt,” I add, closing my eyes and trying to hold back the flood of tears at voicing it like this for the first time. “Because if it hadn’t been for me, maybe he would have gone to college or met a girl and gotten married, and then I’d have nieces and nephews and my brother…”
A tear falls then. A streak of wetness trailing a path of pain down my cheek.
“And now I have thisnewbrother and I really like him and I’m afraid that I’m diminishing Joshua’s memory, or that I’m replacing him in some way.”
And then I burst into tears, the wave of emotions that I’ve been feeling for weeks as I’ve adjusted to this new life in a new town with new people coming forward in a rush.
I haven’t had anyone to talk to about this. About all of this newness that makes my life feel so different.
That makes me feel so small.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my eyes still closed as I try to wipe away the wetness on my cheeks.
I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know if this is a date or not, but I’m pretty sure bursting into tears isn’t something most men want to see from the girl they’re spending time with.
Suddenly I feel a warm body settle in next to me on the bench, arms pulling me into the warmth, wrapping me snug and holding me close.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he whispers into my ear, his words holding their own thread of emotions. “Nothing at all.”
I take advantage of his nearness, tuck my body firmly into his where he offers it, enjoy the feeling of being embraced by someone who wants to ease my fears, lessen my pain, soften my suffering.
His hands rest softly against me, one lightly at the nape of my neck, the other caressing up and down my spine in soothing repetition.
It’s a beautiful thing when you learn to accept love in its varying forms. And while I wouldn’t say Wyatt loves me, I would say that he cares enough to want to make sure I feel loved in this moment.
Loved and not alone.
“I’m so embarrassed,” I whisper as he slowly rocks us both, the movement soothing. “I keep wanting to cry around you.”
He chuckles. “As long as I’m not the one who makes you cry, it’s fine, sweetheart.” He just continues to hold me, rubbing my back occasionally. And then he adds, barely loud enough for me to hear, “I promise, I never want to make you cry.”
Eventually, my tears subside. I pull back and look at Wyatt, surprised to find a host of pain in his eyes. He reaches forward and rests and hand on my jaw, his thumb stroking across my cheek.
“I’m sorry I dumped everything on you,” I say, my voice soft and still tinged with embarrassment. “I haven’t really had anyone to talk to since I got here, and…”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he says. “I’m sure holding all of that in was exhausting.”
I nod.
“Sometimes, when you’re tired, getting it all out means your body can finally rest.”
I nod again. “That’s so true. I feel like I could take a two-day power nap right now.”
He smiles, his eyes flitting over my face as his hand tucks hair behind my ears. “Then let’s get you home, sweetheart.”
We collect our uneaten goodies and wrap them up in the mangled paper bag, then put it into my backpack.
Wyatt takes my hand as we head through the donut shop and back out to the front. I like the feel of my hand in his. Warm. Safe. It’s not a feeling I’m overly familiar with, but I’ll take as much of it as I can get.
When we pull up out front of Lucas’ a little while later, I expect to just hop off and head inside. But Wyatt parks his bike, turns off the engine, and takes my hand, then walks me to the door.
It’s a sweet gesture, something that reminds me of the dates I might have had in high school.
“I really like spending time with you,” he says, looking down at where his hand is holding mine.
I smile. “Me too.”
He looks at me with affection, a sweet expression that makes me feel so adored in this moment. “You work a lunch shift tomorrow, right?”
