Page 52 of Every Thought Taken

At this, his eyes finally meet mine. The single glance is loaded with agony and rage and distrust. All of which I earned.

“Why?”

I hate the sharpness of his single-word question. Hate that I made him want to question why I would want to speak or spend time with him. But I created this wound, and it is up to me to heal it.

“Because I have a lot to say, starting with an apology.” I glance down the sidewalk and see more people filing out of the school. “Can we go somewhere? Please, Ander.”

He looks past me with a shake of his head. I see the war brewing inside him. Two sides of the coin, each begging to be the victor. As much as I don’t deserve a yes from him, I want it. I want him to agree if only for a few minutes, to listen.

“Please,” I whisper with desperation on my tongue.

Glassy eyes meet mine for a beat before he starts walking. “Fine.”

Instead of going to his house, he guides us toward the park in the center of Main Street. It isn’t private, but the benches and tables are quiet as most kids and teens go off to celebrate the end of the school year elsewhere.

He unhooks his backpack from his shoulders and tosses it to the ground near the base of a tree. Dropping down next to it, he leans back against the tree and hugs his knees to his chest, closing me out. I set my backpack on his and sit at his side, my arm brushing his as I mirror his posture.

“I panicked,” I say, a breath above a whisper. “My parents basically grounded me for months and I panicked. I was angry with them. Yelled at them every day for weeks. Said things to them I now regret. All because they want me to succeed.” I swallow past the thickness in my throat. “Most of all, I hate how I treated you. How I spoke to you last time we talked. How I lashed out and hurt you.” Hesitantly, I lean to the side and lay my head on his shoulder. “I was an asshole to you, and you didn’t deserve my cruelty.” My eyes fall shut as I breathe in his earthy scent. “Sorry is nowhere near enough for how I feel, Ander, but I am so sorry.”

We sit unmoving against the tree. Hour-long minutes pass in the most deafening silence. As each second ticks by, I question if my apology is too late. Question if my explanation is not enough. Pray that he is simply mulling over my words, processing them all and figuring out how to respond.

Without a doubt, I own how horribly I treated him these past months. I own the wretched decisions I made to please my parents. When I finished my schoolwork each night, I should have texted or called Anderson. Should have made an effort to be a better girlfriend. He would have supported me regardless of disliking the new boundaries in place.

Instead, I punished us both. I busted ass on my classes, pulled up my grades, and lost myself and my friends in the process. It didn’t help that my parents were breathing down my neck. The constant reviews of my homework. The unending questions about college applications and what major I plan to apply for. In the heat of one of many arguments, I barked out how pressured I felt. That I didn’t want to go to college, so I definitely didn’t care about a major.

For weeks, our conversations were vicious circles of me yelling and them putting their foot down. Though I am proud of the hard work I put in, the college applications I filled out, I still ask the same question.

Was it worth it?

Because right now, Anderson’s silence tells me it may not have been. How can it be worth it if I lose him?

“Can’t do that again,” he mumbles, voice scratchy. I feel his head shake before he continues. “I get that shit went sideways, but I won’t be your punching bag.”

Stab.One I rightfully earned.

“I promise.”

He sniffles and lifts an arm to his face, dragging the sleeve of his hoodie across his nose. “Not gonna lie. I’ve been pretty fucked up since the last time we talked.”

I didn’t have all the details, but after a few weeks of my house arrest, Lessa told me Anderson had shut down. He didn’t leave his room. Hardly ate or drank. Maybe spoke a word or two to her on occasion, but nothing more and to no one else.

And with each fresh detail, all I thought was how it was my fault. He didn’t react the way he did to gain attention or inflict pain in return. But the wound I created grew deeper, gnarlier each day I didn’t see him after school, each time he refused my call or didn’t answer my texts.

I formed the wound with unkind, false words. Now it is time to heal the wound.

“Lessa didn’t tell me everything, but she told me plenty.” I twist into his side, curl my arm around the bend of his, pressing myself to his side. “I will never be sorry enough for how I treated you.” I tug down his hood and press my forehead to his temple. The backs of my eyes sting as tears blur my vision. “Wish I could take it all back. Wish I could go back and say something else. Do something other than what I did. I was angry at my parents and I took it out on you.” Slowly, I drop my chin and press a kiss to his sallow cheek. “God, I missed you. Missed this. Us.”

To my complete surprise, he twists and shifts his arms. In a swift and unexpected move, he drops his legs, grabs my hips, picks me up, and drags me into his lap, my legs straddling him. He bands his arms around me in a suffocating hug as he nuzzles my neck. My arms weave around his shoulders as I fold into him. Hug him with every ounce of love I own.

And just as I close my eyes, he begins to shake beneath me. Not a light tremble of fear. No, this is a full-body, no-holds-barred tremor. His arms and legs quake uncontrollably. Dampness hits my skin where my shoulder and neck meet. His limbs constrict more and more with each shuddered breath he takes.

“God, I’m so sorry,” I whisper against his skin.

He squeezes me painfully, but I don’t dare tell him to let up. If anything, I mentally beg for more. Beg for him to release every ounce of hurt I inflicted and return it to me tenfold.

Not sure how long we sit like this—quiet and completely engulfed in each other—but as the sun shifts behind the trees in the park, I suggest we leave. Go to my house or his. Go somewhere to spend time together, alone. To just lie around in each other’s arms and ignore the outside world a little longer.

And as we leave the park hand in hand, I send a silent thank you to whoever listens.

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