Page 16

Yes. I did. So, so, so much. “I couldn’t take him with me.

” I hate that my eyes itch with unshed tears.

That my nose stings and my throat burns.

I will not cry in front of my son for a man I knew before he even existed.

“Life can be cruel sometimes, honey. And even if we want something, we don’t always get to have it.

I can’t even begin to explain it all to you—and I won’t,” I add when he opens his mouth.

“It’s not for you to know. That was my life before, and you’re my life now .

But yes, I left. And yes, I snuck out, even though Tommy was my friend back then.

My very, very best friend in the whole world.

We’d been friends for a long time, even when we pretended we weren’t, and in all that time we had together, we’d made plans for how we wanted our lives to turn out.

We had hopes and dreams and ideas, and we were so young and na?ve, we were entirely incapable of anticipating a world where those dreams wouldn’t come true. ”

“So you left…” Dimples, the same as mine, flash in his cheeks. “Will you ever leave me?”

“Oh, God. Baby, no!” I pull him in close and rest my ear over his pounding heart.

Abandoning Tommy Watkins ten years ago nearly killed me.

Abandoning my son, on the other hand, isn’t something I’ll do unless I’m already dead.

And I swear to hell and back, I won’t go down easy.

“You and I are not the same as me and Tommy.” I lean back and cup his face.

“It’s not even a little bit the same. He’s just someone I used to know.

I loved him,” I admit, my voice crackling on the words, “I really did. But it’s not the same kind of love a mom has for her child.

Tommy was my past, but baby, you’re my universe. You’re my everything.”

“You left Grandma Bitsy, too. And Colin.” Too fucking smart. Too perceptive for his own good, he searches my eyes. “You leave people. So maybe you’ll leave me, too.”

“I leave situations that are no longer good for me. I left Plainview because I had to, honey. For the sake of my life and sanity, and for yours, I had no choice. I couldn’t take Tommy with me.

And Colin is just…” Godddddd, how do I explain this to him?

I can’t. “Colin is in love with Tasha. I don’t consider that leaving.

He wanted a chance at happiness with her, so we gave him the space he needed for that happiness to grow. ”

“What if I become a situation you don’t want anymore?

” His little heart pounds visibly in his throat.

“I can be a lot, right? And I’m not normal like the other kids.

I don’t sleep in my own room, and I’m always asking questions.

I can’t sleep at night unless you’re holding my hand, even though I’ll be ten soon.

Plus, I went outside just before without telling you, and I made you have an argument with Grandma and Tommy.

If I didn’t go outside, none of that would have happened. ”

“You’re not a situation .” I drag my hands away from his face, over his shoulders, and down to his lap until I can twine my fingers with his.

“And you didn’t make me argue with anyone.

You have a right to be in your own yard, honey.

My reaction to that is not a burden for you to carry.

My temper is not your problem, and those fights were bound to happen anyway. That’s not your fault.”

“Tommy was being nice to me.” He stares down at our hands, carefully tracing the side of my finger with his. “He wasn’t mean or anything. Not at the gym, and not today before you came out.” Slowly, he glances up and rewards me with smiling eyes. “He was kinda surprised, though.”

“Why was he surprised?”

He shrugs. “I guess he could tell that I don’t like to talk very much because he didn’t get mad when I didn’t tell him my name in class.

He made me pair up with Molly, who is loud and a bit bossy, but he told her to be nice and stuff.

” Pausing, he leans closer and whispers, “I think he knows I’m autistic, Mom.

Even though I didn’t say so. And then when I saw him this morning, he was really surprised that I was here.

He asked if Grandma Bitsy was my grandma, and when I said yes, it’s like he didn’t believe me at first.”

He allows his smile to grow a little larger. “Chris was laughing at Tommy because Tommy was kinda too surprised to ask me proper questions.” Then he adds, whispering again, “I think Chris might be autistic too. Maybe that’s why Tommy wasn’t mad that I didn’t want to talk at the gym.”

So perceptive. So smart.

I swallow the ache in my throat and nod. “Yeah, baby. I’m pretty sure Chris is autistic too. But he didn’t go to the doctor like we did. He doesn’t have a formal diagnosis.”

He pulls back and relaxes, releasing the tension in his shoulders and loosening the hold he has on his jaw. Because we’re no longer talking about things that hurt our hearts. “Why didn’t he go to the doctor? I didn’t even have to get needles for my diagnosis.”

I breathe out a soft, barely there snicker and consider how much to share with a boy who absorbs too much. “Things were just… different when we were kids. And Chris’ parents didn’t treat them very nicely.”

“Kinda like how Grandma Bitsy doesn’t treat you nicely? ”

“Well… no. Differently. Both homes were hard to live in sometimes, but Grandma Bitsy made sure I had food to eat and a bed to sleep in. She sometimes said things she probably shouldn’t have, but she never hurt me. Not, like, she didn’t kick me or punch me or anything like that.”

“Did Chris’ mom and dad kick and punch him?” His eyes grow wider because, to him, the thought of a parent beating the shit out of their child is simply impossible to accept. “That’s assault, right? Even if?—”

“Yes. That’s assault. And abuse. Tommy and Chris’ parents only sometimes parented. Sometimes there was food to eat, and sometimes there wasn’t. Sometimes they weren’t even home, for weeks at a time.”

“Where’d they go?”

“We don’t know. We never knew. They just went out of town sometimes and never said anything, and they didn’t think about leaving food in the fridge or a babysitter to make sure the boys were okay.

Doctors cost money,” I explain. “And diagnoses cost a whole lot more. It wouldn’t have mattered if Chris had two extra legs and three noses.

Their parents wouldn’t have done anything about it.

But I think you’re right…” I tap his sweet button nose.

“I think Chris is autistic, too, and I agree, that’s probably why Tommy was able to understand you at the gym.

He’s spent his entire life learning through his brother. ”

“Maybe that’s why Tommy is extra mad at you.”

“Maybe… what?” I pinch my brows and try to puzzle out his meaning. “I don’t— You think he’s mad at me because of autism?”

“No. He’s mad because his mom and dad kept leaving him behind. And then you left him behind.”

His words are like an arrow to my heart. But his arrow has a dull tip, wrapped in a rag dripping with gasoline, and set alight with the kind of fire that never extinguishes.

Ouch.

“Can I come to the shop with you today?” Completely oblivious to the damage left behind, he crawls across my unmade bed and off the other side to collect the shorts and shirt he laid out before we went to sleep last night.

“I want to help you with your spreadsheet. And maybe we can go to the diner next door to get ice cream floats this afternoon when it’s the hottest.”

“Sure.” I rock backward and drop to my butt, and though I don’t consciously decide to do so, I massage my chest and hope the ache goes away sometime this decade. “I’d love for you to come with me today.”

“And I still want to go to the gym.” He wanders toward our shared bathroom, but before crossing the threshold and closing the door, he glances back with a sweet smile. “I never met an autistic person before. Especially not an adult kind, anyway.”

I mean… I’m sure you have. You just didn’t know it.

“Grandma Bitsy already paid for the entire summer. And I don’t want her money to be wasted. Does it make you mad that I want to go?”

“No.” I lower my gaze and allow my head to simply dangle. “It doesn’t make me mad.”

“You promise?”

“Mmhm.” Not mad. Just sad. And sore. And really, really scared. “I promise.”