Page 46 of The Weight of Your Wishes

“Nope. They’re here because they like us. Accept it.”

He shakes his head but cranes his neck to kiss my forehead. “Back up. I need to flip these.”

“Dear God, Grant. You’re such a dad,” Sky jests. “How do you deal with him, Hendrix? I thought maybe he’d be more chill when he’s not at work, but I guess not.”

I laugh loudly.If only they knew.“I think it’s endearing.” I plop down in the chair next to theirs and grin mischievously.

“You guys were made for each other then,” they deadpan, but I see the small smile playing on their lips.

Patty comes out with a gigantic, bright yellow bowl of pasta salad. She places it right in the center of the table and sits down next to us.

Soon enough we’re all slapping cheeseburgers on buns and digging in. The atmosphere is light and easy. Jack and his boys talk to Grant like they’ve known each other forever. Sky is mainly quiet, as usual, other than the occasional sarcastic jab, and Patty is telling me about how two guys started a fist fight in her store last night. “One of them grabbed the coffee pot—halfway full, mind you—and smashed it against the other guy's head. All I could do was wait until the cops got there,” she says.

“Maybe you shouldn’t work night shifts alone,” I try, but I already anticipate the answer I get.

“I’ve been at this store for decades. Don’t you worry that pretty little head over me.”

I heave a sigh, still not convinced.

Grant’s arm comes down to rest on my shoulder. The heavy weight of it comforts me. It brings me back to the night he asked me to slow dance with him at the bar, like a perfect southern gentleman. My cheeks flush just thinking about it. That show of bravery from him was more than I ever expected, and he hasn’t gone back on it yet. No matter who’s around, he’s not afraid to show his love for me.

A couple more hours go by, and I’ve somehow managed to get Grant to play a round of beer pong with me. He’s a natural at it, of course. Jack and his friends left a little while ago, said they’re taking the boat out, and invited me to come. I would’ve, but I don’t want to waste any of my remaining time here. The end is creeping up on us quickly. There’s a sense of impending doom about it because I think a lot of what happens next will rely on my mom’s reaction to finding out about us.

It shouldn’t be this way. What she thinks should have no bearing on this, but I don’t know that Grant agrees with me on that. He refuses to talk about it in detail, only giving me vague non-answers both times I brought it up.

Sky and Patty both leave as the sun starts setting, casting everything in a pinkish-orange hue.

I take a swig from my ice-cold beer for courage before setting it down on the table. Then, I move toward Grant and sit on his lap. His arms cross around the front of my stomach automatically, and he buries his face in my neck. “This was nice. We should do it more often,” I say. He nods against me. The cicadas seem to chirp louder as the silence stretches. “So, we’re going to do it?” I ask hesitantly. “Talk to my mom next week.”

He stiffens against my back but relaxes again and squeezes me tighter. “Yeah, baby boy. We’re doing it.”

* * *

I don’t know that there’s ever been a more tense car ride than this one. There’s an ever-present gloom seeping from the dark gray clouds clogging up the sky. Grant’s been white-knuckling the steering wheel, his jaw set tightly the whole way. We haven’t spoken one word to each other. Usually, I always try to lighten the mood when it comes to him, but the black pit swirling in my stomach is enough to make me sick.

Something’s not right. He shouldn’t be so nervous, and I know that’s what he is right now. It’s only my mom. She’s never really been content with any of the choices I’ve made, but she hasn’t kicked me to the curb yet. I know that she cares about me, despite her bad way of showing it. She cares about Grant, too; he’s her longest friend, so there’s no way she would get rid of both of us in one swoop.

I worry that if she’s not approving of it, Grant will take that to heart. I don’t think I’ll be able to convince him that I’m worth it if that were to happen. If this entire summer hasn’t been enough to convince him, then I don’t know what will.

My heart thuds a painfully rapid rhythm in my chest as we pull into the driveway. I swallow the lump in my throat and look over at Grant, but he’s already getting out of the truck. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead as I square my shoulders and follow behind him. Rain starts coming down immediately, pelting the hot pavement.No more dirt roads here.

At the very last second, I grab his hand for some semblance of comfort. When he squeezes my fingers between his, I worry that it’ll be the last time.

He opens the door, and we both step inside. My mom’s soap opera is playing on the TV in the living room, and she’s darting around the kitchen. The robust scent of her homemade tomato sauce fills the air, and it’s one of those moments that catches me off guard, the ones where this place actually does feel like home.

She turns around, putting her long golden hair up in a ponytail. When her sharp, blue eyes land on us, Grant drops my hand like it burned him and steps away from me. All the blood rushes from my face as I turn toward him, mouth agape. He looks at the floor, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. “I can’t do this,” he says, voice muffled by his palm. “Can’t do this.” He shakes his head and trudges back out the way we came in.

My heart falls to my feet, shattering into jagged pieces. I find myself frozen to the spot for what feels like an eternity, my breaths coming so fast that I feel nauseous. My lungs tighten in my chest; I need to get out of here—need air. I rush to the back door and fling it open, leaving my mom stunned silent in the kitchen.

The rain is coming down harder now as I suck in deep lungfuls of damp, earthy air. It’s not the same as back home.Back at Grant’s,I correct myself.My eyes dart across the perfectly manicured lawn and the stark white fence enclosing it.

The weight of my wishes slams into me like the car crash that started all of this, and I sink to my knees. They land with a splash as my head falls into my open palms. Tears well in my eyes, burning a trail down my cheeks.

I can’t believe he just fucking left.

How could he just leave me like that?

He just turned around and walked away, sufficiently shunning everything that we’ve been through together—all the hushed promises, the love proclamations.

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