Page 31 of Unloved

I point between the two of them and tip my head to the exit door in question.

They both nod, walking ahead of me, shoulder to shoulder, catching up on whatever it is they want to share with each other.

I take my time behind them, enjoying the view, watching their ease together, hearing them both laugh. I don’t care that there’s no rhyme or reason as to why Rhys’s well-being is important to me. The only thing that matters right now is that there is no denying that Lennox feels it too.

11

LENNOX

It was becoming the new normal, everybody lazing about at Frankie’s rental every night after dinner. Even though I live here too, it doesn’t really feel like my house, or even ours. It feels more like an intermission, like the wait before the next part of the show.

Truth is, I don’t really want to be at home, alone, while everyone else’s lives go back to normal. At least with Frankie, he doesn’t have anything else to do but keep me company while I find my feet.

I told myself forgiving Frankie was a necessity, that life is different now and I can’t take all my abandonment issues out on my brother. But in reality, seeing him in the flesh, putting his whole life on pause for me, heals that little eight-year-old boy inside of me who was convinced nobody had ever loved or cared enough for him.

I’m sure the resentment will resurface at some point, but I’ll cross that bridge when it comes instead of wasting time I don’t have, anticipating something I know, no matter what, we can get through.

Clem, Remy, Rhys, Samuel, and I are all stretched out in the living room while Frankie and Arlo are busy dancing around one another in the kitchen. It was entertaining to watch at first, but now it’s just frustrating as all hell witnessing the back-and-forth between them.

Clem and Remy share a recliner and I’m lying across the three-seater couch with my head practically in Samuel’s lap. I’m waiting for him to move, or maybe show any signs of discomfort, but he doesn’t. Not once, and I don’t know why, but that fucks with my head even more.

It’s hard to resist him in general, but lately, he seems to have allowed himself to be affectionate toward me, and I’m a masochist for it. I have absolutely no idea what’s going on in his head, and for all I know, this is all platonic, because it could be. Frankie and Clem raised me to know that there is no hard and fast rule that says men couldn’t be affectionate or show emotions with one another or that it had to mean more than face value, but my gut tells me Samuel and I are anything but platonic. The feeling is impossible to ignore, and until recently, it seemed like ignoring it is what he wanted to do.

Right now, it’s almost like he’s begging me to call him out on it. I want to, but everything around me seems so entangled with my accident that I’m too scared to ask questions, to dig deeper, to demand the truth.

Just like the accident brought Frankie here, maybe the accident made Samuel feel like he can’t walk away from me, and knowing that could be the reason he changed his mind about us makes me feel infinitely worse.

My eyes stray to Rhys, sitting on the other recliner in the room, laughing at Remy and Clem as they argue over which fast food burger is superior. They’re about ten minutes away from grabbing a pen and paper to write a pros and cons list. I’m so used to them being like this, that even without my hearing, I still know how they bicker. Like any younger brother, Remy finds extreme pleasure in annoying Clem and spends a lot of his time working out ways to get her riled up.

Usually, disagreeing with her about anything is sure to do it.

Rhys doesn’t seem bothered by their antics at all. In fact, I often catch him looking at them with sad, nostalgic eyes, and I have no doubt he’s thinking about his own sister and the relationship with her he doesn’t have. I know firsthand how deep the ache runs when you miss your sibling, and it makes me want to hug him and fight for him all at the same time.

He fits in seamlessly with us, and I can’t explain exactly why that matters to me. In the short amount of time we’ve spent together, I could see he is both reserved and outgoing. He was willing to share his story, but he isn’t willing to share his feelings. And he is happy to help others but apprehensive about accepting help for himself.

He’s a walking oxymoron—outwardly living one life while internally lying about the other.

From the things he told us and the things he hasn’t, it’s obvious he’s scared. And I feel his fear as if it’s my own.

It’s the reason I can’t focus on anyone’s conversations. I’m not even following along with everyone in the group chats, because fear and anxiety have me in a chokehold.

Tomorrow is my first appointment with the audiologist since leaving the hospital. It’s probably a week too late, but I spent the last week trying to psych myself up into going.

They aren’t going to tell me anything I don’t already know. It just seems like the final step in confirming my hearing is pretty much gone forever, and I don’t feel in a good enough head space to deal with the finality of it all.

Right now I’m in limbo, my head in Samuel’s lap, and I don’t want to move. I don’t want to face reality or try to work out my future. I just want to be here, where it’s safe.

Where I knowhewill keep me safe.

With these people around me, I know what to expect. I know how to cope.

As if Samuel can read my thoughts, I feel his feather-light touch through my hair, coaxing me to look at him. When I tip my head up, he’s glancing down at me, blue eyes full of worry. I reach up and try to smooth out the lines of concern between his brows, telling him I’m okay.

We were already so in tune with one another, but lately, he knows my thoughts and anticipates my needs before I speak them. He is the true definition of a best friend, even if to me, he will always feel like more.

My phone vibrates in my hand, bringing me back from my wayward thoughts. I bring the screen to my face and read Clem’s text

Remy and I are going to head home.

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