Page 85 of A Minute More

“I haven’t forgotten about him,” I say and pull John into a hug, patting his back and feeling the sting of his tears against my skin. “Of course I haven’t. James was the love of my life.”

I say that, despite the fact I’ve recently realized it’s not true. Since meeting Wesley, I question if I even knew what love was all those years. I’m not sure I did.

I think what James and I had was codependency, something unhealthy, something we both couldn’t quite let go of.

“But you’re replacing him.”

“I’m not,” I say, trying to appease him. I just want him to leave so I can explain this all to Wesley, but before I can get him out the door, Wesley is moving away from me and disappearing into the bedroom. Oh fuck, he’s going to leave me. He’s going to walk out.

I’ve ruined it.

“You need to go, John. You need to go home. Let me order you a ride.”

He shakes his head, sobbing into my arms and so I hold him like that for far too long. The only relief is that Wesley hasn’t left—he’s still in the room. Oh fuck, please let him wait for me. Let him let me explain.

“He’s gone and you’re forgetting him. Who’s going to remember him if you don’t?” John asks, and my heart flips in my chest. I’d never forget James. I loved him once, but things turned sour, and at the end, he was someone I didn’t recognize. He was mean and unfaithful, and while I mourned what we could have had, I didn’t mourn what I lost. No, I’d lost that ages ago.

“I’ll always remember him,” I say, feeling my throat sting. “Of course I will. But I have to move on. I have to—”

“Not yet. Not yet.”

I hold him tighter, my shirt getting wet, and I feel it, the guilt once more. But it’s overshadowed by the worry I have that things with Wesley will end once he finds out. I don’t want things to end with him. I want more.

I want forever.

Finally, John pulls it together and I walk him to the door, telling him the car is outside waiting for him. I don’t want him driving home. It would be so fucking sad if he did…if he killed someone else…or himself in an accident.

Just like his son did.

As soon as the door shuts, I sag down against it, falling to the floor and pressing my face into my hands.

I need to speak to Wesley, to explain. I need to get up. But my legs aren’t working. I can’t fucking breathe. A full-on panic attack hits me. My hands go numb and then my face, a tingling spreading through my body until I’m panting.

“Simon, breathe.” Wesley appears before me, holding on to my hands and squeezing gently. I do as he says, but this one lasts a long time. The consequence of both my worlds converging.

When I finally come out of it, I feel nauseous, like I’ve just been on a bender and I don’t even drink. Haven’t had a sip of alcohol except that one beer at Wesley’s place.

“Hey, you’re okay, Simon. Come on. Come here.” He helps me to my feet and guides me to the couch where he pulls me down against him. I don’t know why he’s still here, but I don’t want him to leave. I want him to stay. His hands rub up and down my back, and I cling to him.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks, and I nearly sob at how kind he’s being. He should be demanding answers. Not calmly asking me if I want to chat. I don’t deserve him. That much is true.

“I met James when I was eighteen. Fell head over heels for him.” Wesley stops breathing. “I gave it all up for him—my college scholarship, my future. All because I loved him and wanted to stay with him.”

Wesley hugs me to him tighter, and I find my strength in him. “But things weren’t good…they started to deteriorate after the second year. He started to drink more, started to change. I don’t know what happened, but he wasn’t the same man I fell in love with.”

“But you stayed?”

“I stayed. I stayed because I’m loyal. Because I hoped he’d change. But he didn’t. He only got worse. I think in the end we both resented each other. I resented him for holding me back from my dreams, and he resented me because I stifled him. He hated how serious I was, how I didn’t like to go out drinking with his friends. But I hated them…I hated all of them.”

We’re silent for a long time, and I glance up, Wesley’s face swimming through my unshed tears. “He wasn’t the love of my life. I told John that because he needs to hear it, but I stopped loving James years ago.”

“What happened to him?” he asks, and I lay my head down and pull my lips through my teeth. It takes me a while to get it out, but I manage. It’s like a freight train of emotions, they well up within me and come barreling out.

“He died. A little over five months ago. He ran into another car, killing the passenger and himself. He was drunk.”

Wesley stiffens beneath me. “Jesus.”

“I know. I fucking know. It was…devastating—the loss for the other family. But honestly, by that point, I’d expected something terrible would happen sooner or later. He was careless, reckless. I just wish he hadn’t killed someone else in the process. It’s torn John apart.”

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