“You made an error in judgment. But that doesn’t mean you deserved your dad cutting you off. You didn’t deserve Angelo abusing your trust like that either. You’re not the one who hit Send.”
“Thanks.” I liked that he didn’t sugarcoat it. Because it had been a judgment error for sure. And hearing him say that I didn’t deserve it warmed icy places that had frozen over that awful morning when everything had changed. “In Dad’s defense—”
“There isn’t one,” Alden said firmly.
“Well, I think he thought I’d give in quickly, head home, do what he wanted, do counseling or whatever shit he had planned to ‘cure’ me. First he cut off the phone. Then the car. And when I still didn’t give in, he went for the tuition that was due right then. That’s why financial aid had such a hard time helping me—there just wasn’t a lot of time.”
“But you didn’t give in.”
“Nope. Stayed in Gracehaven. At first I thought I’d just outlast him. Figured I was his kid and he’d have to care sometime. Then his health insurance dropped me. And I knew.” My voice dropped to a bare whisper. “Knew he really didn’t care how I was. I need my daily asthma meds. And they’re not cheap. But he didn’t care. He just wanted to be right, wanted to prove to his stupid relatives that he’d brought me in line. Didn’t care what it did to me in the process.”
“Wow. That’s heartless.” Alden sounded as stricken as I felt.
“And that’s why I can’t go home. Can’t let them know I’m close by, even. I don’t trust him not to use me seeing Mom or the girls as a reason to try to force me to do what he wants.”
“Like kidnap you, you mean? I wouldn’t let him do that. You shouldn’t have to be scared to call your mom. I don’t care if he showed up with a team of ministers and so-called therapists. I still wouldn’t let them take you.”
His vehemence soothed something raw and sore inside me. Back at Gracehaven, I’d had the professors looking out for me, but they hadn’t known the whole truth. I’d told them I’d come out to Dad, not the how. But Alden knew the entire story and still he defended me. And fearlessly too. Like my dad could bring an army, and Alden would defeat them all, one by one to keep me safe.
“Thanks.” It was so inadequate for everything I was feeling, but it was all I could manage. “But I’m still not calling. I…” I squeezed my eyes so tight my face pinched, but it still wasn’t enough to stop the burning. “I’m not sure I could handle it if Mom didn’t answer. That’s what really kills me. I’d figured out that he was a ba—not a very nice person years earlier. But her going along with it…”
I licked my parched lips.
“Yeah. That would be the worst,” Alden agreed. “I mean, I get panic attacks too. I get her being afraid. But still. She’s your mom.”
“Yeah.” My heart hammered, everything I’d held back for the past year threatening to overflow. I took some deep breaths, but they didn’t help at all. If anything, they made it worse, reminding me of what it felt like to struggle for air.
“Conrad.” His hand on my arm was my first clue that we’d stopped. At some point, he’d taken another exit, this one a middle-of-nowhere rural road, no civilization in sight. “Look at me. It’s going to be okay.”
I wanted to believe him, but my soul felt as empty as the night around us, and I wasn’t sure when I’d ever get past this guilt and anger. “Not so sure.”
“It will.” Alden’s voice had the sort of confidence I desperately needed right then. “You’ve made it this far without them. It’s their fault if they can’t see how cruel they’re being. But you, you’re doing awesome.” He didn’t say it with false cheer, the way a lot of people would, instead stating each word as a careful fact.
“Doesn’t feel like it a lot of days,” I admitted, heart still pounding. “Barely hanging on. Dead-end jobs just to afford my meds. Missing my folks even as I hate them.”
“I get that. You can’t simply stop loving someone.” He squeezed me, a tentative half hug that I leaned into as if I’d discovered a life raft in the middle of the Atlantic.
“Thanks.” Him understanding was everything right then, everything I’d been craving for a year and not even realizing how much I’d needed to tell someone and to be heard. Be understood. And his face was right there, head resting against mine as he awkwardly tried to hold me.
Not really sure what I was doing—only knowing that I was grateful and sad at the same time, and desperately wanting to feel something other than awful—I ghosted my mouth across his. His lips were soft and warm, a bulwark against the cold night, and I wanted to sink into him even as he pulled back. His retreat this time was unmistakable, and I instantly regretted the impulse.