Taking a deep breath, I launch into the last subject I wanted to talk about during our session.
“I’ve been thinking about someone.” I finger the bracelet Will Monroe gave me, rubbing my thumb over the guardian angel charm, along every ridge of her wings. “Someone from my past.”
“Who?”
“Will Monroe.”
Her expression remains neutral but I see the slight flare in her eyes. No one understands why I’m so interested in Will, why I feel the need to talk about him. I think they all wish I’d forgotten him. “What about him?”
My family never understood. Sheila probably won’t understand either.
“He’s the real reason I’m alive. It’s not because of me, or anything I did. I feel like I owe him something. I wish I knew where he was, so I could see him. Talk to him.”
“You shouldn’t feel like you owe him anything. You played a big part in your return,” Sheila points out, and I send her a look. It doesn’t even faze her. “Perhaps you’re giving him too much credit.”
“Perhaps I don’t give him enough. That’s the biggest problem. His name is rarely mentioned because of who his father is. That’s not fair. He didn’t choose his family, his father. No one should blame him for this. He’s a hero. Will Monroe is my hero.”
I bite my lip, not quite willing to express my deeper concerns. That I’m so interested in Will lately because of meeting Ethan. They remind me of each other. Their features are vaguely similar but not quite. The Will I remember was lanky and average height, with long black hair and piercings, with a somber expression and intense gaze, as though he saw everything and hated it all. A boy who rarely smiled.
A boy with no reason to smile.
Ethan had a different attitude, a better attitude, but he was a rescuer. Like Will. If Sheila ever realizes that I compare the two of them, she’ll just try to overanalyze the entire situation and I’ll be opening up a whole new can of worms.
I can hear her tapping away on her iPad and I wish I’d never brought Will up. He’s a sensitive subject. He’ll always be a sensitive subject.
And I hate that.
Regret washes over me and I pull so tight on the charm of my bracelet I feel it give, the guardian angel no longer attached to the bracelet but now lying in my palm. I stare at it helplessly, upset that I so casually broke it, after all these years. I should have known better, taken care of it better. The angel charm is fragile.
Like my heart.
“Have you spoken to him at all?” Sheila asks.
“Will Monroe is nowhere to be found.” Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I stare down at the pretty angel who represented so much to me. “He gave me this.” I hold up the charm to her. “I just—I just broke it.”
The words pass my lips and it’s my turn to break. To cry. I bend over my knees and sob, letting the tears fall without care, my chest aching, my head hurting as I clutch the charm so close I can feel the edges of it press into the thick skin of my palm. I cry for me, for my family, for that stupid, ridiculous man Ethan who ignores me and doesn’t deserve my tears.
The person I cry the most for, though, is Will Monroe.
And he has no idea.
The text comes three days later, seemingly out of nowhere.
I want to take you out tonight.
Gnawing on my lower lip, my fingers hover over the keyboard of my cellphone, unsure of how to reply. I should tell Ethan to go to hell. The best action would be to not reply to him at all.
But I can’t ignore the longing I feel at just seeing his words in a text bubble. Clearly I’m weaker than I thought.
Weak for Ethan.
What do you have in mind?
He immediately replies and I smile at his answer.
Concert for a Web client. Small band playing at a club. It’ll be fun.
Totally out of my element. I’ve never been to a concert. I don’t always do well in crowds. This could be a recipe for disaster. I should say no.
I don’t.
What time are you thinking?
It’s like my fingers have a mind of their own.
I’ll pick you up at your house say around 8? Concert doesn’t start until 10 and the club is here. Downtown.
Say no. Tell him you have other plans. Tell him you have no interest dating a guy who runs so hot and cold. You deserve more. You deserve better. You can resist him. Really you can.
Sounds good. What should I wear?
His answer not even a minute later makes me smile so hard it almost hurts.
Something sexy.
And this is why I can’t resist him. Why I allow him to play with my emotions despite his bad behavior. I like him. Allowing him into my life wasn’t easy, and I wasn’t going to kick him out because he isn’t perfect. That’s just ridiculous.