His eyes glazed over as they went back to watching Tommy.
“He’s going to grow up knowing that. And when he’s old enough to understand—when he knows about your struggles and everything that you gave up for him—he’ll be proud of you, too. And you should be—you should be proud of yourself.”
He sniffed once, his eyes still trained on Tommy. I knew he was trying to hold back, but it was clear he needed to hear these words, because maybe no one had ever told him before. Maybe he had never realized the impact he had on other people, not just me. And not just by his actions but also by the type of person he was. “You made that choice, Josh. Whether you realize it or not. You chose to stand up—to be the strength that you and Tommy need. And Tommy’s mom . . . She’s going to regret it—”
He sniffed again and wiped his eyes on his forearm.
“She’s going to regret missing out on this. Not just Tommy. But you, too. I’m sure she already does.”
He cleared his throat with a grunt and used his palms to rub his eyes. He inhaled a few calming breaths before turning his gaze back on me. “And what about you?” he asked.
I looked back to Tommy, his little eyes so concentrated on the blocks in front of him. “What about me?”
“I think you should give Blake a chance. He cares about you.”
My gaze dropped to floor.
“He shouldn’t,” I whispered.
“Chloe,” he said quietly, tapping on my arm. I refused to look up. “If you don’t care about him like that, then you need to tell him. It’ll ruin him, but you need to be honest with him.”
At his words, a piece of me shattered. All my self-control, the walls I had built, all of it—broken. I felt the tears prick behind my eyes, but I held them back and faced him.
Truth time.
“It’ll be nothing like the hurt I cause him if I let him in, Josh.”
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
So I told him.
I told him about the cancer. My mom and my aunt. I told him about foster care and Clayton. I told him about the chances. I told him everything. He listened to every word, without interrupting me.
“I’m scared,” I continued. “I’m scared that if I let anyone in and I die . . . I’m gonna hurt them when I leave them behind. And I don’t want to cause that type of pain for anyone. My foster parents, and brothers and sister, and Blake . . . especially Blake . . . because I think I care about him the most.”
He nodded slowly. “So you just take off? Not form friendships? Relationships?”
“Yes.”
His eyes narrowed as he searched my face. “I get that, Chloe. I really do.” He cleared his throat. “It’s not the same. But I feel like that sometimes. I mean, having Tommy, that’s a lifelong commitment. If I ever want a relationship, I have to make the right choices, not just for me but for him, too. If I ever do end up meeting someone, they need to know that Tommy will always come first. Forever.” He paused and stared off into the distance. “But you and Blake are completely different.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you as a kid, you lost your mom and your aunt, and I’m sorry for that, but you had no choice. They were your family, and you were a kid. Blake—he’s old enough to make his own decisions. If he wants to spend time with you—that’s his choice. But you have to let him make it.”
The front door swung open, and Blake stood motionless, box of diapers in one hand and formula in the other. “Hey,” he said, his gaze moving between Josh and me, before finally settling on me. “Are you ready to go home?”
I nodded.
Blake
“Are you okay?” I asked her once we were in the car.
“Yeah,” she said through a sigh. “I’m just a little embarrassed.”
“Why?”
“Just the way I was last night, and the way you saw me, and the way I acted.”
“It’s okay. I get it,” I told her. “Listen, I know that you have a shitload to deal with. More than any eighteen-year-old should ever have to. And tell me to fuck off if I’m overstepping, but next time you feel like you need to lose yourself—going out, getting beyond wasted . . . screwing around with guys—I dunno.” I shook my head slowly. “I just worry that it’s dangerous. I know that you don’t want people close, but that’s happened. People care. People worry. It’s not just you that behavior affects. If you feel like that again, you can come to me or Josh. We’ll always be here, but if you wait until it’s too late, like it was last—”
“Okay,” she interrupted. “I get it, Blake. I promise.”
When I pulled into the driveway, Sammy and Amy were there playing skateball. Even after last night’s events, I found myself smiling.
Sammy ran to the car. “Blake’s here!” he screamed.
I wound down my window and returned his fist bump. “Hey, bud. Who’s winning?”
“Amy.” He rolled his eyes. “But I think she’s cheating because she can count to eleventy-three. I can only count to twelve.” Then his eyes went huge. “Wait here,” he said excitedly. “Don’t go anywhere okay? Just wait right here.”
“Okay.”
“Promise? Say you promise,” he said, a seriousness consuming his little four-year-old face.