My Heart for Yours (15 page)

There’s more to Weston than I give him credit for. And it’s the stupidest thing in the world for me to feel split between a guy I still feel betrayed by, and Weston—who is sometimes exactly what I’d expect, and is sometimes so much more. I have to do something to thank him.

“
Stop the car.”

“
What?” he asks.

“
Pull over.” I let the corner of my mouth turn up. If I can get Weston to make me feel like Tobin makes me feel—only without all the hurt and games…

A faint smile passes across his lips, as he turns down a small side street and pulls over.

I kiss him softly, and his mouth immediately opens like he’s trying to devour me. I wonder if this is what happens to guys when they don’t have sex—like all the other stuff needs to be bigger, more intense.

“
Slow down,” I whisper as I pull away from his kiss.

“
What?” He’s already out of breath but pauses.

“
You just…” I need to open my mouth and say it. Tell him what I want.

Weston backs away.

I reach out for his hands. This is the guy who saved me when I first got to D.C. The guy who made all the photo-op stuff Dad wanted me to be a part of bearable. Because not every senator’s kid is tortured the way I am.

Why aren’t I feeling more?

“
What?” He’s looking at me with confusion. Of course he is. I never ask for anything.

“
Never mind. I’m sorry.” I pull on his hand, but he leans away.

“
What’s going on?” His brows pull together.

I stare at the seat between us. Okay. Deep breath. Get it out. “I want to slow down when we’re together. Take more time. I—”

His fingers touch my chin, bringing my face level with his. His lips brush mine softly, sending a wave of shivers through me. My eyes close.

Tobin’s there.

No, no, no.
Tobin does
not
get to be in this moment, again. He also doesn’t get to make me feel bad about this moment.

I part my lips, and Weston’s still hovering, just close enough to me that I can feel his smile on my lips. His fingers touch the side of my face, slide down my arms, and rest on my shoulders where he starts drawing patterns. Slow. It’s all things that should make my knees weak, and my heart pound faster, and it sort of does, but I’m only half here, and I don’t know how to bring the rest of myself into what should be an amazing moment between us. I was right earlier—if I just told Weston what I want, he’d try.

Now I’m thinking that I was wrong when I thought Weston was like my dad. So wrong. Weston’s good, and kind, and still kissing me so softly.

“
I love you, Delia,” Weston whispers as he touches me.

I put my arms tightly around him, pressing our bodies together in the confines of the car. And that same comfort that’s always been a part of him wraps me up even tighter than his arms.

“
I’m sorry you lost your friend.” His hand strokes my hair.

I break down in tears, once again not even sure how much of it is about Eamon, and how much is me going slowly insane back in this town.

I have no words for Weston, only confusion. About everything. Weston only knows the girl I’ve tried to be. Tobin knows the girl I really am. The one who’d read nothing but poetry all day long. The girl who half-lives on sweet tea, and goes barefoot, even on the rocks. Weston knows the manicured Delia. What would he think of the real girl?

“
It’s okay, Delia. I’m here.” His fingers gently wipe away my tears, leaving me with even more guilt in their place.

His words make me cry harder, because there’s no denying anymore that Weston feels more than I do, and a horribly selfish part of me is using him. I don’t want to just use him. I want the passion of Tobin with the safeness of Weston. Something I’m starting to realize is completely impossible.

Why haven’t I trusted Weston with all the parts of me? I trusted Tobin, and I still love him for it. Maybe still more than I love Weston. I love and hate admitting this to myself.

I wonder if there’s any way I can make Weston enough for me to not feel Tobin anymore. Probably there is. It almost feels like there has to be.

Enough is a dangerous word.

I was never able to do enough for my father, and I’m beginning to wonder if Weston would ever be enough for me. Maybe I want him to be, and that’s all I need.

ENOUGH

Enough is impossible

There’s no way to fill it

No way to see it.

No way to live up to it.

It is simply the measure we use

When we want to say

You’re just not what I want

And probably never will be

Fifteen

Tobin

The sounds of daylight come way too early. My head feels foggy and swollen from the six-too-many beers I had last night. I rub my jaw; I really need to shave. I’m probably looking as rough as I feel right now. This is the morning of my brother’s funeral and look at me—
I’m
the one that’s a fucking mess. There was one other time that I remember feeling so disgusted with myself.

***

Eamon had left me laid out on the front lawn, laying there on the wet grass, drunk but happy. The sky was full of spinning stars above me. It was beautiful. He’d gone to follow Delia home and make sure she got back into the house okay. I normally walked her home through the woods, but I’d celebrated a little too much that night on account of it being my birthday.

Delia made Eamon promise to stay and get me in the house safely and not to do anything stupid. But as soon as she left, I made him break that promise by leaving to keep an eye on her. He assured me she’d never even notice he was there, because if she did, she would’ve been pissed that he left me. It wasn’t the first time I’d had him check up on her. I knew it was my job, but Eamon was a good alternative in a pinch. He joked with Delia incessantly, but I knew he’d do anything for her because she was important to me.

I was content staring up at the sky until he got back. If I closed one eye, I could make everything stop spinning long enough to make out the Summer Triangle. That’s another thing that Eamon taught me—stars. He learned them from our granddad, but I never knew him. He passed before I was old enough to remember him at all. And then the sky came to an abrupt halt. Mr. Gentry was hovering above me with his hair gelled flat to his head, shirt tucked tightly into his pants and a stern look on his face.

I hauled myself off of the ground as fast as I could and extended my hand to shake his, but he ignored it.

“
Delia’s not here,” I said, shoving my hands into my pockets.

“
I’m well aware. I waited to come until I heard her sneak back into the house. Nice of you not to even see her home, being as you’re the reason for her ridiculous behavior lately,” he said. His voice was controlled, but anger crept around each word.

“
Okay…” I said. Then what the hell are you doing here, is what I wanted to say.

“
You two think you’re being very sneaky, that I haven’t noticed her absence at night. I’m not a stupid man, Tobin—unlike my daughter, who seems to have lost all common sense since she met you. Delia has an incredible future in front of her, and the absolute only thing standing in her way is you. I intend to put a stop to that right now.”

“
Sir, with all due respect, I’m not sure I understand. I completely support Delia in whatever she wants to do,” I said.

He made a sound that sounded like
“tisk tisk
” with his tongue, and I honestly wanted to punch him right then.

“
How exactly, Tobin, do you think you can support anything that she does? What do you do? You’re a welder, right? That isn’t going to put her through college and then medical school.”

I didn’t realize this confrontation was about money, though I should have figured. I didn’t make a fortune, but it would enough to live a good life and someday, support a small family off of. My dad always managed to take care of us, at least.

“
Yes sir, but Delia has never mentioned medical school. I’m not sure that’s what she’s got planned—”

He was quickly in my face. I’d had a lot to drink, and my judgment wasn’t the greatest right then. I held my breath, willing him to back off before I ended up in jail.

“
Delia has got plans of whatever I say her future will hold. You are nothing but trash, an insignificant blip in what will otherwise be a stellar life for her. She will have everything she deserves, Tobin, and you son, are not it.”

I could feel his breath on my face. I allowed myself the briefest of seconds to consider his words before I felt myself being pushed backward.

It wasn’t Mr. Gentry, but Eamon. He stood in between us, pushing us both away from each other.

“
What seems to be the problem, Mayor?” he smiled at Delia’s father, but I knew that look. He was trying to help me out, but wondering what the hell I’d done.

“
You boys both stay away from my Delia,” he said. “I don’t want to have this conversation again, Tobin. You know you’re no good for her.”

When he’d left in his shiny Cadillac, Eamon punched me in the arm.

“
What the fuck did you do this time?” he asked.

“
He doesn’t want me to see Delia anymore,” I said.

“
I fucking told you that would happen. Is she really worth all this trouble, bro?”

I nod. She was worth it for me, but I wondered sometimes if I was worth it for her. “Did she get home okay?”

Eamon rolled his eyes.

“
Of course she did. I told you I’d make sure,” he said. “So, what’d Newt Gingrich have to say?”

“
I’m not good enough for her. I’ll never be able to take care of her the way she deserves.”
All true
, I wanted to add.

Eamon scoffed. “Bro, don’t buy that shit. He just doesn’t want to accept that his little girl doesn’t need him anymore. You take good care of her, you love her, and for some stupid reason she loves your country ass, too. It’ll work out,” he said.

“
And if he stands in the way? I don’t want to make her life hard because of me.”

“
Oh, he’s going to stand in the way, but you knew that going into it. And when shit hits the fan, I’ll be here for you, just like I always am.” He punched my arm again, “Come on, lets get your scurvy ass inside.”