Page 21 of Stuffing My Obsession
By the time I finish, my throat feels raw and my eyes sting. “I told him to leave,” I whisper, more to myself than her. “But now I can’t stop thinking about him. Like…what if I made a mistake?” I swallow hard. “Do you think I made the right call?”
Mom sets down her whisk, wiping her hands on a towel before leaning against the counter. She watches me for a long moment, her expression thoughtful.
“Honey,” she says softly, “I’m not saying what he did was right. Following you, keeping secrets…that isn’t fair to you.”
I nod, pressing my palms into the counter, bracing myself.
“But.” Her voice gentles even more. “You didn’t say he hurt you. You said you felt safe with him.”
I look at her sharply. “That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No,” she agrees. “But maybe it means something. Maybe he was trying to protect you, in his own…broken way. Maybe he’s not the monster you think.”
Her words dig under my skin, burrowing into the place I’ve been trying to shut off since last night. I wrap my arms around myself, whispering, “He doesn’t look at me like someone he wants to hurt.”
Mom’s smile is small, knowing. “No. He looks at you like someone he’d die for.”
The air rushes out of me. My eyes blur, and I blink fast, desperate to keep it together. “I don’t know if I can forgive him.”
“You don’t have to decide now,” she says gently. “But maybe…don’t shut the door all the way. Sometimes people carry scars we don’t see. And sometimes, those scars make them do foolish things.”
I press my hand to my chest, where the ache refuses to ease. Foolish things. Like watching me from the shadows. Like leaving me roses and kissing me like I was the only thing keeping him alive.
It’s crazy, but I miss him. It’s not even been twenty-four hours yet.
Mom watches me with that soft, sweet gaze, and I know she’s done—at least for now. Then her lips twitch, just a little. “Besides, if I were your age and a man like that looked at me the way he looks at you…” She fans herself dramatically with the dish towel. “Well, your father would have some competition.”
“Mom!” I laugh, choking on my water, heat rushing to my face.
She grins, satisfied with herself. “What? I still have eyes, you know.”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head, but the knot in my chest eases a little. Typical Mom…always knows when to break the heaviness with a joke.
“Okay,” I mutter, tucking the bottle under my arm. “I’m going for that run now before you traumatize me further.”
She chuckles, shooing me toward the door. “Be safe. Don’t go too far.”
The cold morning air hits me like a slap as I step outside, mist clinging to the grass and the edge of the fields. I start off slow, stretching my muscles before easing into a steady pace down the quiet road.
But running doesn’t clear my head. Not today. Every step just drives me deeper into the mess that is Myles Carter.
I told him to leave. And he did. Just like that.
And maybe that’s what’s killing me.
If what Mom said is true—if he really was trying to protect me, if all of this came from a place of something more, then why didn’t he fight harder to stay? Why didn’t he explain? Why didn’t he tell me the truth before it all exploded?
I push harder, my sneakers slapping against the asphalt, lungs burning.
Was everything we shared a lie? The way he touched me like I was the only thing he wanted? The way he made me feel safe, cherished, seen? God, the way he kissed me…like he’d been starving his whole life and I was the first taste of something real.
You don’t fake that. Do you?
My chest squeezes, and I slow to a jog, then a walk, my breath clouding in the air. I press a hand over my heart like I can steady the chaos inside. But it’s no use.
Because the more I think about him, the clearer it gets.
I’m in love with Myles Carter.
