“Exactly what I said. He told me he wanted to be with me. Then told me to not decide anything until I came home and had time to really think about it instead of listening to my gut in the moment.”
“And now that you are home?”
I sank into the couch, leaning back on the headrest behind me. “I don’t fucking know, Wes. One second, I’m all like yes! Amazing sex. Let’s do this. Screw the consequences.”
“And the next?”
I heaved a sigh, turning my head to meet his gaze. “The next, I’m reminded of what those consequences could be. Of all the reasons this would never work. And trust me, Wes. There are a ton of reasons I shouldn’t even be considering this. It’s absurd! I’m forty. He’s twenty-seven. It’s a level of crazy that’s so far off the rails, even for me. And I’ve done some pretty outrageous shit.”
“But are they reasons?” he asked calmly, despite my increasingly irritated voice. “Or are they simply excuses?”
“Excuses?” I straightened, setting my wine glass on the coffee table in front of me. “They’re not excuses. They’re—”
“Listen, Jules,” he interrupted, placing his glass beside mine before grabbing my hands in his. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this, especially after we talked last week. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you as happy as I did the other morning, even after uncovering the possibility someone was emulating Nick’s criminal behavior. But that didn’t seem to affect you. Instead, I heard something in your voice I didn’t think I ever would again.”
“What’s that?”
“Life.”
I exhaled a tiny breath, a small lump forming in my throat. I could deny it all I wanted, but the truth was, my week with Lachlan made me feel more alive than I ever had. Like I was actually living again, instead of simply going through the motions. Simply existing.
“You had a shitty childhood. No one can argue with that. Born to an addict. Sent to foster care. Adopted by a woman as pretty much a pawn for her to appear charitable when she really didn’t give two shits about you. Hell, I doubt she gave two shits about me, for that matter, considering she’s done nothing to be a part of either of our lives, or her grandkids’ lives, since Dad divorced her.
“I didn't notice it back then, probably because Meemaw and Gampy more than made up for how lacking our parents were. But now that I’m older, now that I have a child of my own with another on the way, I couldn’t imagine either of them enduring what you had at the hands of the people entrusted to provide for and love you. Then all that shit with Nick…” He trailed off, jaw tensing in a rare glimpse of anger from my brother, a man who was normally calm and even-tempered, not much truly upsetting him.
“You’ve spent the majority of your life just trying to survive. I get the feeling that’s the only thing you truly know how to do. You make all your choices with that one goal in mind. Now that you’ve had a taste of something good, something pure, something that comes with no qualifications or requirements, you don’t know how to handle it. It’s so far from what you’re used to that it scares you. Makes you wonder how to protect yourself from this new, frightening scenario called happiness. Wonder how you’re going to survive this.”
“Wes…,” I exhaled, unsure what to say.
I never really saw things this way before, but he pretty much hit the nail on the head. Then again, he did have a front-row seat to my lifetime of self-sabotage whenever something good finally happened to me.
It was all I knew.
“Healthy relationships have been the exception for you, not the rule. So when you find yourself in one, or at least on the precipice of the possibility of one, you start to question everything. Start to come up with excuse after excuse about why it’ll never work. And do you want to know why?”
“Why?” I choked out, although I had a feeling I already knew the answer.
“The same reason you remained married to Nick for so long. To protect yourself. To protect Imogene. To protect the few people you’ve allowed into your heart.” He tightened his grip on my hands, his expression filled with emotion. “But do you remember what Meemaw used to always say whenever you were having a rough day?”
“What’s that?”
“‘Broken crayons—’”
“‘Still color,’” I interrupted, remembering my meemaw saying that on more than one occasion, assuring me that even though I may not have lived up to the ridiculous expectations Lydia, my adoptive mother, placed on my shoulders, I was still a source of beauty.
“Exactly. You may see yourself as broken, Jules, but ever since the day my parents brought you home, you’ve filled my world with color. Maybe it’s time to allow someone else to see your color, too, despite your broken pieces.
“All those reasons, all those excuses are just that. Excuses. If it’s meant to be, you’ll find a way to work past all the obstacles. Just look at Londyn and me.”
He dropped his hold and leaned back, gaze going to a photo hanging over the mantle of the two of them on their wedding day, their son, Eli, between them.
“Lord knows we had our fair share of obstacles. But not once did we give up on each other. We faced them. Together. It sounds cheesy, but we’re stronger together.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is you don’t have to go through life alone anymore, Jules. You’ve got an amazing support system. Me, Londyn, Imogene, and even Dad, now that he’s seen what a shitty role model he was when we were younger. We’ve all got your back. You don’t have to keep living in survival mode.” He held my gaze for a beat, then a nostalgic gleam covered his expression. “Remember one of Meemaw’s other sayings?”
“Which one?” I laughed slightly. “Between Gampy and Meemaw, they could have filled a book with folksy words of wisdom.”
“That’s certainly true. Thankfully, they passed these pearls of wisdom down to us so we could call on them when we needed them the most. But the one I’m talking about is ‘When it feels scary to jump, that’s exactly when you jump. Because—’”