Page 42 of The Long Way Home
I shift my weight and put my hand into my pockets. The muscle in my jaw works. I don’t ever talk about my mom. There hasn’t been a reason to. But something in me knows I’m safe with Sunny.
“Don’t have one,” I mutter.
She goes still.
I sigh, not wanting her to be uncomfortable with my baggage, I correct myself. “I mean, I guess I technically do. Had to, you know… to be born and all.”
The silence between us stretches.
“But she left,” I continue, because now that the words are starting, I might as well tell her the whole truth.
I clear my throat. “When I was twelve, she walked out. She didn’t leave a note or an explanation. She was just… gone.” I let out a sad laugh. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen her face that I remember the way her perfume smelled more than I remember what she actually looked like.”
“Rhett,” Rachel whispers, and places her hand on my arm.
I can’t look at her. I keep my eyes fixed on the lights ahead of me, on the shape of our shadows stretched over the cement, on anything but what her eyes look like right now.
“It’s not something I talk about,” I say quietly. “Josh is the only one who really knows. He found out freshman year after I drank too much and threw up on his Xbox. Guess the trade-off for the mess was confessing the tragic backstory behind the drinking.”
That earns a faint laugh from her. I glance sideways and catch her watching me, her eyes glinting in the dim light. She shifts closer, almost tucking herself against me, and I feel the subtle weight of her settling there, claiming a little space without a word. She wraps her hand around my arm, and I tell myself it’s okay because it will help her not stumble.
“My dad never really talked about her either. One day, she was there. Next, he was figuring out how to pack a lunch, how to get me to basketball practice, and how fake a Halloween costume with duct tape and a shoebox. The man stepped up. Didn’t complain once.”
I rub a hand across my jaw, the rough stubble catching against my palm. “He worked his ass off. He still does. I think part of him always hoped she’d come back. But I stopped hoping a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry, Rhett,” she says, “I’m so sorry she couldn’t see what a wonderful human she would miss out on.”
I shrug one shoulder. “Thanks, Sunny. I try not to resent her for it because it’s life, you know. I learned to adjust. Plus, I got lucky with my dad. And Josh… he kinda filled in the cracks.”
“Well, now you have me.”
“Yeah?”
“Hell yeah,” she repeats, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.
We walk in that stillness for a while. She doesn’t press me for more, doesn’t flood the silence with questions. She keeps walking right next to me. And I think she belongs here.
When I finally glance at her again, she’s looking up at the stars, her profile soft in the dim light. I can’t help but wonder if she knows what she’s doing to me. If she has any idea that tonight, this conversation, it’s all getting under my skin.
And damn it, Rachel is starting to matter more than she supposed to.
I don’t know if Rachel would ever see me the way I see her. But I know I’d stay sober and walk her home from a million parties, regardless of the time or weather, if it meant getting to be beside her like this.
She sighs, pulling the hood up and over her head. The sight of her in something that is mine makes me possessive.
Friend. Friend. Friend.
The word repeats, but it starts to sound less like a boundary and more like a warning.
“Do you think you’re gonna feel left out now that Josh is going to be with Margo all the time?” she asks, glancing at me briefly before looking ahead. Her tone is casual, but there’s a trace of hesitation.
Before I can answer, she keeps talking. She does that when she is nervous, though I’m not sure why she would be nervous right now.
“You’ll probably get a girlfriend so you can all hang out together.”
I laugh. “Why would I do that?” I keep my eyes forward, but I see her shift slightly in my peripheral vision.
“Aren’t you going to want someone to hang out with when you hang out with them?” she asks, a small crease forming between her brows.
