“Don’t over think it,” Zak says. “Just be yourself. Take away the pressure of something more and hopefully he’ll come to the right conclusion.”
It feels like a lot of ‘what if’, but it’s the only plan I have. I can’t force Wes to let me in and I don’t want to walk away from this. Besides, we’ll have to work together for the fundraiser anyway.
I take a deep breath and nod. “Okay. You’re right.”
Alex gives my shoulder another squeeze and heads to the door. “I take it from the sweats you’re not coming downstairs to the party?”
I shake my head.
“Do you want me to stay?” Zak asks.
I shake my head again. “No. Go celebrate the win. I need an early night. Apologize to the team for me. And remind them that we have practice at seven, yeah?”
Zak nods. “Sure thing. Just remember, we’re here if you need us. Okay?”
The music from downstairs floods my room as they open the door, but then I’m plunged back into near silence again. Standing, I stumble over to my bed and collapse, face down. I’ll give Wes the weekend, but come Monday, I’ll put Zak and Alex’s plan into action. The question is, how do I make him realize what he’s missing, when he seems so determined not to let me in?
WES
Pushing pieces of salad around my plate, I’m aware of my parents watching me between shared glances. Dad finished his salad ages ago and keeps picking at the sleeve of his beige cashmere sweater and Mom keeps reaching up to touch the thick braided crown her black hair is wound into.
After several minutes, I set my fork down and sit back with a sigh. “What?”
My dad holds up his hands in mock surrender. “I said nothing.”
“You didn’t have to say anything,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “The silent conversation you two are having speaks volumes.”
Mom reaches over and squeezes my forearm. “It’s unlike you to come home for a spur of the moment visit, and you look . . . sad.”
“This is how I always look.”
Dad snorts and Mom chuckles softly. “You know, you were always serious. Even as a baby.”
I huff and stare at my salad. The drive up here did nothing to clear my head. One of the things I like about the drive north is the space and time to think. This time, it was torture. Shawna called me about an hour in and demanded to be filled in on the ‘drama’, as she called it. She’s working this weekend at the hospital where she’s training to be a pediatric nurse, so she won’t be able to join Toby and I for dinner tonight.
Toby was right. Shawna agreed with him. It’s beside the point, though. I may well be sabotaging my own happiness, but I’ve already fucked it up. Sol put his heart out on the line, and I did worse than stomp on it—I ignored it. He trusted me with his body, and I walked out and left him, and then when he came to talk, I used him again. How can I ever expect him to trust me?
I can’t.
“Wes?” Dad presses. “You know we love to see you, but is there a reason you came home? Should we be worried?”
Taking a deep breath, I meet my dad’s concerned stare. I might be a coward when it comes to Sol, but perhaps I can do this. “I was offered a job at Rainer Corp., and I’ve taken it.”
Dad stares at me, unblinking, and when I swallow, my throat is dry. Mom coughs nervously and pushes back from the table, beginning to clear away the plates.
“Congratulations,” he says carefully. “However, I was under the impression that you were going to come and work for me.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose beneath my glasses. “I know. I’m sorry. I just . . . want to do something that’s my own.”
“Rainer Corp. isn’t yours,” he says, his voice filled with forced calm. “It’s a coldhearted, faceless organization where you’ll be lost amongst hundreds of other employees.”
“Exactly.” I sigh, trying to recall the words I’ve practiced a hundred times since I accepted the job in December. “If I work for you, I’m already at the top. WebWeb is a great company and I’m grateful for the offer, but as your son, I haven’t earned that recognition. How can I prove myself?”
“You’re top of your class and always have been,” Dad scoffs. “You prove yourself every day, and I have no doubt you’d be able to do that when you join me.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to join WebWeb. Look, Rainer Corp. isn’t where I want to end up. It’s a stepping stone. If I can make a name for myself there, amidst dozens, maybe hundreds, of other people, then it will mean something.”
“And working for me won’t mean anything?”