I put that there, that doubt. I never wanted to get attached to the kid in the first place, and here I am feeling like absolute dog shit because I hurt him.
I’m sick to my stomach over it.
Jake whistles, signaling to me again.
“I better go before he comes over here and tries to spoon-feed me or something.”
Before I can think about it too much, I lean into Maya and press a kiss to her cheek, inhaling her scent, which is slowly disappearing from my sheets. I linger longer than I should, but I can’t seem to talk myself into walking away.
“I still need you,” I whisper.
There’s a hitch in her breath, and I pull back before I haul her into my arms and kiss her until we’re both dizzy.
She gives me a small smile and rushes Sam from the restaurant.
She looks back at me twice, and I cling to the hope that gives me.
19
Maya
When Friday night rolls around, I can still feel Nolan’s lips against my cheek.
I still need you.
It’s been on repeat in my head for days now in that gravelly voice of his. I hear it everywhere. In the shower. In the car.
Amidst the cold loneliness of the night.
It’s amazing how you can know someone for such a short amount of time and get so used to them that when they leave, your entire world is flipped around.
That’s how I feel without Nolan.
I’ve been having trouble sleeping since I moved into my new place. Well, if I’m honest, the trouble started before that. But since we moved, it’s gotten worse.
It’s not the apartment, which is nice.
It’s him.
It’s what we had.
What I miss more than I thought was possible.
When we agreed to just sex, I meant it then. It was a means to a release. That was it.
He warned me too, said he didn’t do attachments. I should have stopped things when I started falling, but I couldn’t.
I didn’t want to stop.
I just wanted him.
And despite everything, I still want him, even though I shouldn’t.
I still need you.
If he still needs me, why isn’t he here? Why isn’t he busting down my door and proclaiming his love for me? Why isn’t he showing up and being there?
If he’s waiting on me to go running to him, he’ll keep waiting. I had a one-sided relationship before, and I refuse to go down that path again no matter how much my heart is hurting.
“Mom! Have you seen my lucky pick?”
He has a lucky pick? “No. Is it not with your guitar?”
He and Dean have been practicing the guitar a few nights a week for almost two months now. He can successfully play four entire songs. I know this because he keeps playing just those four songs.
I love my son and I’m thankful Dean bought him a guitar for his birthday, but if I have to hear “Brown Eyed Girl” one more time, his guitar is going to find a new home in the Dumpster.
“No!” he calls back.
I slip my mascara wand back into the tube and give my hair one last fluff. I made sure to pick an outfit that makes me appear older. I always hate school functions because of the judgmental looks I get from the parents for being so young.
But honestly, I don’t need the outfit tonight. The lack of sleep and bags under my eyes age me at least five years.
Who knew heartache had such an effect?
I switch off the bathroom light and make my way to Sam’s bedroom. He’s digging around in his dresser frantically, dropping to his hands and knees to check under it.
I cross my arms, leaning against the door. “Wild guess, but did you check your pocket?”
He groans, rolling his eyes at me. “Come on, Mom.” He jams his hand into his pocket. “I’m not that du—” Pink flushes across his cheeks. “Oh.”
I laugh. “Are you about ready then?”
“Yep.”
But I hear the quiver in his voice.
He’s nervous to play in front of a crowd, and I don’t blame him. He’s braver than me, that’s for damn sure. I can’t even say I love you to someone, and I’m a grown-ass adult.
“All right. Let’s hit the road so we can get some decent parking. Your Aunt River and Dean are meeting us there.”
“And Nolan, right?”
My heart squeezes at the mention of the man who holds it in the palm of his hand. “Yep.”
I hope he doesn’t hear the quiver in my voice too. “Come on.”