Page 56 of The Long Way Home
I look back up to him. “My mom left, Anderson. She taught me at twelve years old that love is conditional. That I wasn’t worth sticking around for. I wasn’t worth loving. I can’t… I can’t just—”
Anderson tightens his grip on my shoulder. “I might not get it, Rhett. But you’re not alone here. You’re allowed to want her. You’re allowed to be afraid. It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. And hell, maybe she feels the same way about you. But you’ll never know if you don’t take the chance. Do you really want any more time to pass without her knowing?”
I look for her again, but she’s gone from the table, disappeared somewhere outside.
“What if I tell her and it blows up our friendship?”
“What if you tell her and she’s in love with you too?”
Anderson follows my stare, then looks back at me. “Look, I know I don’t have the history you all have, but I’ve known Rachel now for a couple of years and can tell she is different around you. When you talk, she listens. When she laughs, she scans the room to see if you’re laughing too. That’s not nothing, man.”
I exhale. “I don’t know if I can give her what she needs.”
“Your dad has never left. He stuck around, right?” Anderson asks, pushing off the fridge.
“Yeah,” I admit, unsure where he is going with this.
“And Margo has never left. She may have been dealing with her own trauma, but she was always there for you and is here for you now, right?”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“And Josh never left out of his own volition, right?”
“I don’t get what that has to do with this.”
“You have people in your life who love you unconditionally. What your mom did was horrible. But just because she wasn’t smart enough to see what she had right in front of her doesn’t mean you’re undeserving of unconditional love. And Rachel isn’t your mom. It’s not fair to assume she won’t love you differently. She’s not your past. She’s right here. Right now. And if you let yourself, you might realize she’s been waiting for you to step up for years.”
We stand there in silence for a second longer, the sounds of silverware and laughter drifting in from outside. Right before we step back out onto the deck, Anderson turns to me one last time, “I’m sorry you lost Josh, man. But when you’re ready to let others in, count me in. I’m your friend, Rhett. You’ve got me for the long haul.”
I give him a slight smile, and he pats my back as we head back toward the table. I haven’t really had any guy friends since Josh. And I know there has been a part of me unwilling to make new friends because the fear I have surrounding friendship has been paralyzing. But right now, I’m really starting to come around to the idea.
Dinner wraps up slowly, and people start to drift. Connor and Slone argue over a board game inside. Margo and Anderson scoot closer together, enjoying a moment of peace. Ben stepsaway, taking a call inside the house, and I see my opportunity present itself to me.
Rachel is standing at the edge of the yard, one deep breath away from disappearing into the tree line. Her arms are crossed tightly over her stomach. I watch as she shifts her weight from foot to foot. The breeze tugs at the hem of her dress, the pale fabric fluttering against her legs. It catches my eye even when I don’t want it to.
I stop a few feet away and fix my eyes on the same dark tree line she has been locked on for ten straight minutes. She refuses to look in my direction or acknowledge my presence.
Typically, I would take the hint and leave her be. However, tonight, regardless of her intention, I’m in the mood to push. After the month of avoidance, I have no problem doing the talking for both of us.
“You okay?”
She continues to look out at the treeline. “Fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
She lets out a short breath. “Maybe I’m just tired.”
I glance sideways at her. “You were quiet back there at dinner. That’s not like you, Rach. You want to tell me what’s going on?”
She keeps her eyes fixed ahead, shoulders lifting in a stiff shrug. “Maybe I didn’t have anything to say. Ever think of that, Rhett?”
I step closer. “Bullshit. You always have something to say.”
Her spine goes rigid. She folds her arms tighter, fingers digging into her sleeves like she is holding herself together by force.
“Look,” I say, lowering my voice, “I wasn’t trying to make things awkward. I didn’t know Margo was going to bring up that story. And I didn’t mean for the nickname to cause problems between you and Ben.”
She exhales sharply through her nose. “Margo never knows when to shut up.”
