Page 24

EIGHTEEN

JAXON

“Ready?” I ask Wesley, shouldering my pack as I step outside.

He eyes it warily but nods. “I guess. It’s kinda early for shit that requires a backpack.”

“Not really,” I say with a smile as we walk over to my car. “We’re going hiking.”

Wesley has one foot in the car and looks at me like I’m insane. “Hiking? Aw, shit Jaxon. If I’d known that, I would have stayed at home.”

“It won’t be so bad.” My words come out rushed, fearing he’ll not want to hang out with me today. But I want to spend some time in the quiet of the morning talking to him.

He glances at me skeptically but sits in the passenger seat. I blow out an imperceptible breath and get in as well. “Hiking is pointless,” he says as he puts his seatbelt on. “We walk somewhere, then turn around and walk back. All it does is make me tired.”

I scoff as we head out of town. “You run, don’t you?” I glance at him as he shoots me the same dry look. “It’s just like that. You run to get the endorphins, then you go back home. Hiking is just at a higher incline.”

“You hike often?”

“A few times a month if I can get away. It’s a good way to exercise, and I leave the city.”

He lets out a sigh as if he’s put out. “I guess I’ll join you when you go other mornings too. Unless you want to be alone,” he hurriedly adds.

“No, no,” I say quickly. “You can come.”

We’re both silent for a few seconds, then we break into laughter. “Fuck, this is awkward, right?” Wesley asks when he catches his breath.

“It is. But probably because we’re thinking too much about it.” I rest my hand on the center console, palm up. He grabs it quickly, threading our fingers together. “Let’s just be, you know? We can remember we have a past, but let’s not let that define our future. Okay?”

“Okay, college boy.”

I roll my eyes, and he pokes me in the side, making me yelp and giggle.

“There’s nothing wrong with being college educated. You earned that degree.”

“ Degrees ,” I emphasize but not boastfully. “Shit was no joke either. I spent more nights than I care to share with my nose stuffed in books.”

He squeezes my hand gently. “But you did it. I knew you would.” I peek over at him, and his cheeks are a slight pink. “You were always such a brainiac in school, but you weren’t braggy about it.”

I shrug self-consciously. “Probably because I grew up with all these people that knew from an early age that I was smart. It wasn’t new for them.”

He hums .

I glance over at him. “You’re smart too, in a different way.”

He shoots me a grin. “How do you mean?”

“Any instrument you hear, you can play. It’s effortless. You know how many people would kill to be able to do that? It’s not common. You can play what? Six instruments?”

“Eight,” he says, a smile clear in his tone. “Piano, saxophone, guitar, flute, drums, violin, cello…” We stop at a light, and I look over at his cocky grin. “And the triangle.”

I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. “You’ll have to teach me the art of playing the triangle.”

“It’s not as easy as it sounds,” he says seriously, making me chuckle harder as I turn off on an exit. “You have to time it just right, then you have to make sure the note doesn’t last too long. It’s a delicate art.”

“I believe you, instrument master.”

Wesley chuckles, then leans forward to turn the radio up. An upbeat pop song plays for a few seconds. Wesley opens his mouth as if to say something, but then the DJ comes onto the radio, and who they’re discussing makes both of us freeze.

“ As we said before our break, Ryder and Lana’s Mischief was spotted at a restaurant in Seattle, and he looked hot! ” the female DJ says.

“ Yes, he did, ” someone else says, a man with a gruff voice, as if giving Wesley a compliment took effort. “ We’ll see how long that lasts .”

Wesley’s hand tightens in mine. I take my other hand off the wheel and reach to shut the radio off, but he says, “No. I want to hear.”

I want to turn it off anyway, to protect him from hearing some bullshit that might hurt him, but I honor his wishes. Even though it kills me .

The female DJ makes a noise that sounds like a grunt. “ He has to start somewhere, Cecil. Sheesh. Give him props for seeking help and getting himself healthy. ”

“ You know those types. Can’t stay away from the pills. Once they start, they can’t stop. ”

“ I did ,” a new voice says. Either a guest or a third DJ. I’ve never listened to this station, so I can’t place the voice. “ I was on pills for years and went to treatment. It’s not easy, but it’s possible. You know that, Cecil. ”

Cecil grumbles, “ You’re different. ”

“ How? Because you know me? ” She scoffs. “ Ryder, if you’re out there, and you can hear this, keep going. We’re rooting for you. You’re stronger than your addiction. ”

I glance over at Wesley. He’s still a little pale, but there’s a soft smile on his face. “That wasn’t too bad. Could have been worse.”

“Yeah,” I scoff. “Or they could stop speculating on your life like you’re a fucking sideshow exhibit.”

He squeezes my hand again. “You have to remember, I’ve been in the spotlight for years. That was nothing. At least they said I looked good.”

I glance at him quickly, an involuntary smile crossing my lips when I see his mouth tip up. “You do. They got that right.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “for wanting to protect me. It means a lot.”

Around twenty minutes later, we pull up to the trail I take when my head gets too full. It’s picturesque, all kinds of breaks in the woods so you can see the view of the forest below.

Wesley grumbles as we get out of the car and start up the trail. “Pointless walking. ”

“It’s not the hike itself I’m after,” I tell him as I adjust the straps on the backpack.

“It’s the view when we get to the top. They have a nice bench where we can sit and have a light breakfast.” I look down at his feet, catching sight of his tennis shoes.

I frown. “I wish I had told you we were going hiking.”

“I’m good. As long as we’re not trekking for three to four hours.”

I grin over at him. “Nah. It’ll take us around forty-five minutes to get to the spot I want to show you. While we hike, we can talk…unless you’re huffing and puffing before we reach the top.”

“When I was in rehab,” he says, looking around at the surroundings and hopping over roots, “we had gym time. And fucking yoga. I still do yoga every morning, and I run a few days a week. I think I’ll be fine.”

I’m quiet for a few seconds. There is so much I want to know, so much I want to ask, but it might be intrusive, so I keep my thoughts to myself.

Even though me and Wesley have been separated for fifteen years, it’s like he can still read me. “Ask what you want. I’m an open book for you.”

“Just me?” I tease, bumping his shoulder.

Wesley doesn’t joke back—he stops in the path, pulling at my elbow. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know because I’m certain you won’t judge me. You’ll keep my secrets, unless they’ll hurt me. Doesn’t matter what happened in the past. I trust you. So yeah, just you.”

He means it. He really fucking means it.

That last vestige of guilt I felt for telling my mom what was going on with him vanishes.

I held on to that last little sliver of guilt because I couldn’t forgive myself because he left me.

For years, I blamed myself for him being sent to live with his father.

Mainly because I wasn’t able to protect him while he was hundreds of miles away.

It’s like he gave me permission to no longer beat myself up. A huge weight lifts off my shoulders, and I breathe in the first deep breath I’ve had in over a decade.

We start walking again, the air between us less tense. It’s like that barrier that was between us is gone.

After a few minutes, I ask, “What was it like in there?”

He takes a while to answer as we hike at a leisurely pace.

We’re about halfway to the top when he says in a low voice filled with pain, “It was hell. Most people would say it wasn’t so bad, so no one pities them, but it was fucking hell.

Having to face my demons wasn’t fun. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

I’m still working to wade through all the shit I need to fix about myself.

“For the first few weeks, I had the shakes so bad I could hardly pull on a shirt without slapping myself in the face. And the insomnia. I didn’t get more than two or three hours of sleep for a week. Hell, I still have that.”

“Do you think it was a waste? Going for inpatient treatment?”

“Not at all. I feel like shit some days and want to use, but I don’t have the same urge as before. I don’t need to reach for a bottle or my stash when I wake up every morning. Some days, I almost feel normal. Like I never had an addiction. But I know that’s not true.”

We’re quiet as we make our way up the trail. It hurts to hear him talk about his time there so matter-of-factly. It was a painful chapter in his life, something that will define every day from here on out. I wish I could take that away from him so he can live how he wants.

A few people pass us on the way down, smiling past the sweat on their faces. Wesley follows them with an incredulous look on his face. “I thought we got here early. Sheesh. You people are animals.”

I laugh as I bump him. “When do you wake up to do yoga?”

“Not the same, Jax.”

I chuckle.

Ten minutes later, we make it to the top.

Wesley pulls in a long breath, a wide grin stretching his cheeks.

“Man, this is beautiful.” He spreads his arms out and closes his eyes, tipping his head back.

“God, I feel fucking free up here.” He opens them and looks at me.

“You come here all the time? And see this?” He gestures toward the view in front of us.

“Yeah.” I sit on the bench and start unpacking the bag, pulling out bottles of water, fruit, crackers, and cheese. “It’s nice. Not much foot traffic and when people are up here, they want to sit in silence as well.”