Page 55 of If You Never Come Back
He sighs, his jaw clenching through his smile. “There’s not much to tell. I packed three bottles of tequila along with my bags and bought a bus ticket to southern Utah. I spent my days hiking the national parks and camped out in whatever quiet remote area I could find in the evenings. I’d swig tequila after dinner until I got drowsy and eventually passed out. Mornings weren’t fun.”
My jaw drops. “You did that every night?”
“Pretty much. Whenever I was close to running out of tequila or supplies, I hitched a ride to the nearest town. Bought another bottle and did it all over again.”
“How long did you do that?”
He stretches back, gazing up at the ceiling. “A solid month. I cut myself off after that.”
“Hiking with a hangover every morning for thirty days straight sounds like a special form of torture.”
“It was. I deserved it though.”
“Tell me about your hiking trip,” I say, hoping to change the subject to something more pleasant.
A soft smile takes over his face. “It was incredible. Utah is the most gorgeous state I’ve ever visited.”
He talks about how Zion National Park was packed to the brim with tourists, but it was so beautiful, it didn’t even bother him.
“Canyonlands is prettier, in my opinion,” he says. “And a lot less crowded.”
“What about Arches? Did you get a pic standing under the Delicate Arch? I feel like that’s a requirement for everyone who visits there.”
“Absolutely.”
He pulls out his phone and swipes through an endless reel of photos. I gawk at the endless expanses of red rock.
“These are stunning,” I say.
“I hiked that area for months and I still feel like I didn’t see it all,” he says. “I’d kill to go back.”
“I’m jealous.”
“Don’t be. You kicked off one hell of a career in that time.”
“True. But I should have gotten out more. It was easy for me to get lost in work. I tend to do that when I’m stressed or trying to distract myself from…well, you know.”
We sip our drinks at the same time, letting another silence settle between us. Then Wes turns to me, his stare intense, unblinking, and something more. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Shay, I know I did a shitty job of it when I got back, but I still want to apologize. The way I handled things—the way I ended things with you wasn’t right.”
I lift up my hand to cut him off, but he shakes his head. He leans closer to me. We’re still a respectable distance from each other on opposite ends of my couch, but his move to be closer weighs heavy.
“No, I need to say this. I was an asshole.”
He pauses to swallow, moving even closer to me. I swallow too, hanging on every word as if it’s the last one I’ll ever get from him.
“If I could go back, I would do everything differently. You deserved—youdeserveso much better than what I gave you.”
His tone is firm yet soft around the edges, so full of emotion. But I can’t handle emotional anymore—not from Wes.
Our faces are only inches apart now. When he breathes, I can almost taste the sting of tequila as it floats out of his mouth.
“There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you,” he says. “Can we…”
For a second, he hesitates. I take that as my cue to shut down this conversation before I get hurt again.
I press my hand over his mouth, cutting him off. Because we’re friends now. And us as friends means no more emotionally charged conversations that leave me a bundle of uncertainty, aching for any bone that Wes is willing to throw me.
