Page 23 of The Weight of Your Wishes

He shakes his head solemnly, thick brows set in a hard line.

I don’t know shit about healthy relationships—never had one—but that doesn’t seem normal to me. Still, he seems a bit down about it, like he’s beating himself up over it. I clasp his shoulder. “It’s okay, you know. You guys are both busy people. I’m sure it’s hard to find the time.” A sick sense of satisfaction swirls in my gut since he’s spent an awful lot of time withme.

“When you care enough about someone, you make time for them, no matter what.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s typically how that works.”

He swallows down some beer and drags a hand down his face. “I’ve been preoccupied with being here with you, getting you adjusted, and not giving her enough attention. But she can come over whenever she wants. She knows that.”

My stomach sinks. I don’t know why I even thought for a minute that I wasn’t an inconvenience to him. But this whole week has been better than I ever imagined. We watch TV together on the couch every night, and we talk about our day. I sat with him while he fished in the pond one day before we left for work. He’s mainly quiet, but he doesn’t mind me pestering him with questions or my stupid sense of humor. It’s just been so easy to coexist, even with my painful attraction constantly in the way.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to get in the way of your relationship,” I mumble, the lie sliding from my lips painfully.

He shoots up from his chair suddenly, sending it scratching over the planks of wood. He starts pacing just a couple of feet in front of me. “It’s not your fault. She’s probably thrown by the fact that you’re my ex-girlfriend’s son—which makes no fucking sense.” My brows fly upward at his use of the word fuck. “This always happens. Every woman I date takes issue with Cynthia, but it’s been over twenty years since we were together.”

I rub the back of my neck. This topic of conversation always makes me feel uncomfortable. “Well, I mean, it is a bit unconventional, you know,” I say hesitantly.

He stops pacing and folds his arms across his chest. “How? How the fuck is it so unconventional?”

My eyes widen, and I flinch at the venom in his tone. “After you and my mom broke up, you stuck around and helped her raise another man’s baby… I don’t think most exes do that sort of thing.” I keep my eyes trained on my lap, too nervous to look at him.

“Believe me, I didn’t want to. I wanted nothing to do with her, but then I watched you come into this world. Everyone knew she wasn’t equipped to be a single mother; she needed help, and no one was gonna give it to her. I had to do something.” He pauses, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes. “Nothing ever happened after that. We never got back together, and we had separate lives. I only stuck around for you really. Then I moved back here when I knew you’d be alright.”

Fire licks at the back of my eyes, so I blink rapidly to stop the tears from falling. After he left, I really had no one. Mom didn’t ever pay me any mind, and she was always working. I guess that’s when I started going out more, making more friends. Maybe I acted out for attention from someone—anyone would’ve been better than no one. It was lonely.

I gulp down the rest of my beer and look towards the sun on the horizon. Shades of pink and orange streak across the sky, and I focus on it as I say my next words. “I wish you’d never left.” Tears well up in my eyes, and I try my hardest to fight them back. “Everything went to shit, and I was alone.”

His feet thud against the deck, and a strong hand grips my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “Nothing happened to you, right?” he asks, his eyes clouded with anger.

I shake my head, trying to pull away. I don’t want our faces this close, but his hold only tightens, keeping me still. “Look at me when I’m talking to you. I need to know. Were. You. Hurt?”

“No. No one touched me,” I seethe. “Not even my own mother. No one hugged me. No one talked to me about my day. No one played with me. I was on my own, and everything I did, everything I said, only made things worse. No one had the patience for me like you did.” My chest rises and falls rapidly. I hadn’t meant to tell him all that.

It’s not his fault—none of it is, and when I meet his sad eyes, it nearly guts me. That’s when the first tear burns its way down my cheek. Grant’s thumb strokes it away as his eyes sear into mine.

“I didn’t realize,” he says. “I had so much going on back then.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You sacrificed enough for us. I shouldn’t take it all out on you.” And I really am. My cheeks flame with embarrassment.

He presses his forehead to mine, my chin still held firmly in his grip. My eyes fall shut, even as I try to resist melting into his touch. “I’m here now, Hendrix,” he says, his voice deep and gruff. “I’ll always be here.” His breath ghosts over my lips, and I need to close the distance between us—need to feel his lips on mine, his beard scratching my cheek. I want to breathe him in, but I use every ounce of ragged control I have left and keep my lips locked shut.

He pulls back and clasps my face with both hands. “Do you believe me?”

I nod stiffly.

“Say it,” he demands.

Something like fear settles in my chest. All I ever wanted was for him to come back and rescue me. Now he’s here, promising to never leave again, and I don’t know which is worse.

“I believe you.”

CHAPTERNINE

HENDRIX

Grant looked so fucking good for his date. His blue jeans fit just right, cupping his ass and just narrow enough around his boots. He even wore a long-sleeve, button-up shirt instead of the usual solid tee. His hair was down, and he had a backward cap on. He even trimmed up his beard and wore a different cologne.

I had to smell it the entire car ride as he dropped me off for work. Even now as I wipe my rag across the bar top, the spicy scent lingers in my nose. It’s the constant reminder that I need.

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