Page 43 of For Him

“Yes. It’s been explicitly stated by both of us,” I said, and he clicked his tongue in denial but didn’t say anything else concerning the matter. “Can I ask something about Weston though?”

He stepped in front of me and leaned against the Razor, curiosity etched across his face. “Something you won’t repeat to him?” I added.

“What is it?” he said, not directly giving me an affirmative to my request.

I sighed, but knew it wasn’t worth pushing for. “Why doesn’t Weston go to town? Have a social life? You clearly have one, and you two are close, so why doesn’t he come with you? He says he finds the rumors entertaining, but I don’t believe it’s just that.”

The haughty expression fell from Cassidy’s face and he glanced towards his brother. I studied the very man who was chatting with the sheriff, looking very much in charge. No matter how self-conceited Cassidy was, he dearly cared for his brother, you could tell. And I knew that Weston loved Cassidy. Which is why I also knew that Cassidy knew the truth, it was just a matter of whether he would divulge it or not.

“Weston was almost eighteen when, you know, “it” happened. His girlfriend at the time came to the hospital while he was there in a coma and visited frequently, nearly every day while he was wrapped up like a mummy in all these bandages and the gnarliest looking cast I’ve ever seen. When he was finally released to go home, the doctor taught our mom how to properly change his bandages and dress them to hopefully prevent worse scarring. His girl came before he had his skin graft to finish closing the wound on his face that looked nasty. Like real nasty.”

He paused while I studied the large figure who had become someone important in my life. “Well, she showed up one day while the bandage was being changed, and she saw his face. You could see some of his muscles and bones along his jawline where they would add the skin later, and she freaked out. She didn’t come back again. Once in a while she would send a text, asking how he was doing and whatnot, but that was it. Eventually, Weston’s left leg healed enough that he was given permission to drive again. So he packed up his crutches, I convinced him to let me tag along like usual, and drove to town to the Center Street Diner.”

I had a strange feeling where this was going. One that had my heart breaking for Weston before I’d even heard the entire tale.

Cassidy looked away from me and back at his brother. “I was eleven and still understood what happened. It would’ve destroyed me, and sometimes I look at Weston, surprised and grateful he’s still around. Still alive.” He paused once more and then looked back at me before continuing. “His friends always hung out at the diner, and Weston went hobbling in, excited to be with them. Before it happened, everyone wanted to be his friend, be around him. But after this, Cash was the only one who stuck it out.”

“What happened at that diner, Cassidy?” I pressed.

“Weston walked into the diner to find one of his friends with his arm around his girl making out. He obviously stopped moving in shock, and then one of the guys sitting in the booth saw him. It took him a minute to recognize Weston, and so he stared, and it drew nearly everyone else’s attention in that diner, including his girlfriend’s. She screamed, called him a monster and all these other names I’ll never repeat in my life. Pointing at Weston, she yelled at him to get out, that he was scaring her, and kept saying how horrible he was, that he wasn’t human anymore. I managed to convince Weston to just leave, and he’s never set foot back in that diner. Finished homeschooling and took off as fast as he could. His ex started all of the crazy rumors about him from that one interaction at the diner. Before he’d even healed enough to go to town, she’d already begun turning his friends against him.”

“I’d like to punch her in the face,” I muttered, and Cassidy chuckled.

“Last I heard, karma caught up, and she’s been divorced twice by cheating on her husbands and doesn’t have custody of her three kids.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Still…” Anger bubbled up inside me. I couldn’t understand how someone could be so cruel. We are always told not to listen to what others say about us, but I couldn’t imagine how horrible that had been for Weston. And embarrassing. How demeaning that had been for him and destructive towards any confidence he had as a teenager. All because of something that I assumed was out of his control, he’d lost all of his friends and girlfriend in one fell swoop. Plus the rumors, although I figured that the scar gave him some credibility in the military.

A buzzing began in my pocket as I remained lost in thought. Somehow amongst the spotty reception on this mountain, I was standing in a pocket that calls could come through. I slipped it from my pocket and stared at the name on the screen, confused.

“Hello?” I said upon answering.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I reached you,” Maddie gasped through the speaker.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Dad coughed up blood and then passed out.” She sounded not just upset and worried, but legitimately terrified.

“Wait, what?” I asked, dread filling my body once more.

“Mom had to call me because you’re working. An ambulance is taking Dad to the hospital. Can you get to the hospital so Mom isn’t alone? I’ve got four kids to pack into a vehicle, plus driving to town, so it’ll take me a little while,” she cried out, overwhelmed with the news. Dread left my body as shame filled its place. If I’d only been home…

“I’ll head there right now. Thanks for calling me,” I quietly replied. Maddie shakily inhaled before hanging up the phone. I stared ahead waiting for the numbness to push out the shame. The bubble had just burst. There was no time for me to enjoy life, that wasn’t possible. I was here, goofing off, when my parents needed me the most.

“Cassidy?” I muttered, and he peeled his eyes up from his phone.

“What’s up?”

“Weston came and got me from the clinic so I didn’t have to drive my car with the donut up here. My dad is being taken to the hospital, and I need—”

“Say no more,” he cut me off and nodded towards the passenger seat while walking around the front of the Razor. Everything in me went blank as he started the engine and I mindlessly sat, waiting to be taken to my dying father.

Chapter 17

Cassidy followed me through the sliding glass doors into the white hospital that smelled of sterile cleansers. I rushed to the front desk and asked for my father, Charlie Mayn. The receptionist told me to go to the third floor and gave me the room number. Cassidy quietly led me to the left towards the elevator.

I stared at my reflection in the distorted steel doors. The beanie was beginning to dry, my braid that lay stiffly down my back hung at a strange angle, but I didn’t care. My father was in the hospital, and I hadn’t been there to help because I’d decided having fun was more important.

A ding sounded and then the doors spread apart, the tile clicked beneath my hiking boots and Cassidy’s square-toed pair. We found the brown door down the hallway on the right, and I knocked before pushing it open.

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