Page 127 of Unspoken Hearts
“When he feels like he’s losing control, then he freaks out. He’s been this way since he was little and he never liked the fact that Reid is eighteen months older.”
“Reid didn’t want to hurt him,” I mumble, like that somehow makes the weight of this situation lessen, but it doesn’t. It just makes my stomach churn faster.
“I know, dear, but Grayson has always liked knowing everything. He’s also always fought Reid on everything, and he probably felt like he lost you to his brother.”
“But he didn’t,” I rasp. “I’m still here.”
“But you love Reid.”
I sob loudly. Hazel squeezes me impossibly closer. “I do,” I cough out. “I love him so much.”
“I know, but I think Grayson just feels a little blindsided by all of this.”
Shaking my head, I suck in a breath, pulling myself away from the kind lady who has always looked out for me, even when I’ve pushed heraway. Hot tears roll down my face, and I wipe them away quickly, pulling myself together again as best as I can.
“I never meant to blindside him. I never meant to fall for his brother.” The words come out wounded and weak as I bite down another sob.
Hazel’s grey eyes blink, hands holding onto my arms as she stares knowingly. “But you did.”
My chin dips as a cry wracks my body, shivering every vertebrae in my spine.
Reaching up, Hazel’s thumbs clear my cheeks. They flush with embarrassment. I can’t remember the last time I cried this much in a single day. It probably was the day that I realised my parents weren’t coming back, but a part of those tears were relief. These are anything but.
“I’m so sorry for all of this,” I choke out. “I’ve pulled your family apart. I always do this.” My mind swirls again with darkness, the shadows forming, pressing down on me. My breathing picks up as I stare at the timber porch, eyes stinging painfully.
“You haven’t. Don’t speak like that.”
“But—”
“Yes, you did something that hurt my son, but your feelings are just as valid. And you didn’t drive him away. I know where he is, and I know Laynie will help him through this. He’s safe, and you are too. That’s what matters right now.” Her tone is so gentle like a feather.
Sniffing, I shake my head. “I pushed my parents away,” I say hollowly, knowing that it’s easier than feeling the pain, anger and rejection I did as a kid.
Hazel pulls back, eyes flickering over me. My pulse spikes. “What do you mean?”
I choke on another sob before telling her the secret I have been holding onto for too long. “The night my parents left, they were going to a new years party at some friend's house. Kids weren’t invited, and they never had anyone to watch us, but our neighbour, Mrs Tenney, used to let us come over whenever they were out.” I blink away to make this easier to recall, although the memory is burnt in my mind like a tattoo. “Axel was five, so he didn’t really know what was going on. I asked them where they were going, and Mum yelled at me to stop asking so many questions.”
My breath hitches as I exhale slowly. “She told me that I was in the way, and she was tired of me always speaking.”
Hazel’s hand lifts to cover her mouth, but I don’t dare look, knowing that I’ll break apart again if I do.
“I know she’d already been drinking. I could smell it. They always smelt of alcohol like it was their natural scent, and I couldn’t stand it. But they left in Dad’s car, leaving me to look after Axel on my own. I waited a few minutes before taking him next door to Mrs Tenney, who let us in and gave us some dinner. She even let us stay the night.” I wipe my runny nose. “We stayed with her for three days before I realised they weren’t coming back for us.”
My blurry eyes meet Hazel’s, and a moment later, I’m in her arms again, both of us crying. It’s been a lot to bear over the years, thinking that I was the reason they never came back. The reason they thought life without us was easier. The reason Axel never had parents.
“It wasn’t your fault.” I hear her voice, but I don’t believe it.
My head shakes. “It was. I was their annoying kid, and I pushed them away. I–”
“No, you didn’t,” She holds my face in her ageing hands. “You were a kid. They weren’t good people.”
“I know,” I whisper, the stabbing sensation piercing my chest. “But Gray–”
“He’ll come back. You're his friend. You didn’t drive him away.”
My tongue wipes salty tears off my lip as I pull away slightly, wanting to ask how she could possibly know that.
“He’s my son, and I know him too well,” she answers, possibly reading my thoughts or maybe the question was written on my face.
