Page 106 of Revolve
That breaks my heart. I can feel his guilt when he talks about her. It hurts him to watch her be treated like that.
“You don’t care to know what she wrote? I’m sure it’s just everything she wants you to know before they have their ceremony.”
“I’m not going. There’s no point in reading it.” He moves to sit on his bed, still clutching the letter. “If I open this, I know I’m going to feel guilty enough that it’ll make me go to that hoax they’re throwing.”
“If you read this letter and you think you need to be there to support her, then that’s what you’ll do. Because despite anything anyone says, you’re agoodson and a goodperson. Even if that means putting yourself first and not going. Either way, you have me right here with you.”
I sit beside him, watching the hard contours of his face fall into something softer. “Do you want me to read it?” I ask.
His throat bobs, and he hands the letter to me.
I pull the paper from the envelope and unfold it to reveal the neat cursive of his mom’s handwriting. There’s a faint smell of roses that floats away from the paper, and that’s when Dylan takes my empty hand and intertwines our fingers in his lap.
Then I read it aloud.
Kuzum,
I know it’s probably taken a lot of strength for you to even open this letter, and I want to thank you for giving me a chance, something I know I don’t deserve after what I’ve put you through. Your father and I have been together since we were fifteen, and when you’ve spent more of your life with another person than you have alone, lines start to blur. He’s done bad things, Dylan, but that still doesn’t make him a bad person. I love him. I love you. You are both a part of my soul, and I can’t just break away a piece of it and continue living. I may be naive for this, but he’s all I know, this life is all I know. I still remember him as the man I married, and who I vowed to stand next to. You may not understand this yet, but loving someone sometimes means loving all of them. Every broken, frustrating, dark part of them.
Know that as much as I’d like for you to be present, I understand if you can’t be.
Love, Mama
Dylan blinks repeatedly, his eyes glistening as he fights to hold back tears. The sight of his vulnerability tugs at something deepwithin me, and I let the letter slip from my fingers onto the bed. Without hesitation, he reaches out, wrapping his arms around my waist to pull me into the space between his legs. His head rests against my stomach, and I hold him tightly, as if it could somehow keep him from crumbling.
“I hate him,” he rasps, the words raw and frayed.
I run my fingers through his hair, offering the only comfort I can. “I know,” I whisper.
“I won’t go.” His voice is muffled against my T-shirt.
Somehow my hold on him grows tighter, like if I press hard enough, I can squeeze out all the pain in his voice. “You don’t have to,” I assure. “But I’ll be right there with you if you do.”
He lifts his head. “You’d go with me?”
“I’d go anywhere with you.”
Dylan’s eyes are drained of the light I’m so used to seeing. This isn’t the Dylan everyone thinks they know. It’s the one he keeps hidden behind closed doors and beneath the spray of water in his secluded shower.
“Will you stay here tonight?” he asks.
I run the pads of my thumbs over the tired lines under his eyes. “I wasn’t planning on leaving.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
DYLAN
LIKE EVERY YEAR,we’re only a few hours into our Halloween party and everyone is hammered. And unlike every year, I’m completely sober on my own birthday.
I’m stopped at a red light as a family dressed as pumpkins crosses the street. Earlier, Kian started complaining about having to drive to West Hartford to get Summer’s and my cake. I grabbed my keys and cut off his whining. Truthfully, my eagerness had little to do with helping and everything to do with escaping the crowded chaos. I needed space, just a little time to breathe, before slipping into the guy I haven’t been for months. Not since I’ve been with her.
It’s been days since Sierra stayed with me all night. I expected to wake up to an empty bed again, but this time she was sitting at the edge of my mattress, poking my cheek. She was wearing one of my crewnecks, her hair a tangled mess from where I’d run my fingers through it all night, a delicate smile on her lips.
She was leaving but woke me up to tell me. That was a first. So was the quick, awkward kiss she left on the tip of my nose before she slipped out the door. Pure bliss. We spent the next few days alternating between our places but never sleeping the night. I knew then thatthe next time I had her, I wanted to wake up to her. I wouldn’t be satisfied until I could have that.
I drive down Main Street, cake secured with a seat belt. No one at the cake shop even batted an eye at my costume, but I didn’t put much effort in this year. Kian tried getting me to be Darth Vader because he’s Anakin Skywalker. I opted for a basic Ghostface mask and black jeans. The radio drones on with some country songs, a leftover trace of when Summer picked up Aiden, Eli, and Sage from the airport this morning. They all made it down for my birthday, and I was excited to see them, but it didn’t fill the hollowness in my chest.
When I hit another red light, I tighten my palm around the steering wheel. The irritation gnawing at me has nothing to do with the melting ice-cream cake and everything to do with a girl.
