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I sleep soundly in Walker’s arms, him not letting me out of his sight or grasp since he found me at the church. We slept for the few hours left of the night, tangled in each other's embrace, hearts settled by our closeness.
I scared myself tonight, and I scared the man I love the most. I don’t want to put him through that panic ever again, or the panic I sent others through when I finally turned my phone back on.
Tons of missed calls and texts flooded in from Boone, Naomi, Carter, Vik, Hayden, Beth, Walker. Months ago, I felt so isolated and alone, like I only had maybe one or two people who cared to check in on me. But now I have my own community, people who care about my well-being and I care about theirs. It’s been so long since I’ve had a sense of family, and now I feel like I have one, even if it’s not by blood.
The sting of my parents' dismissal hurt, but it faded quickly, a sense of contentment filling the space. After that dinner, I know I’m never going to see eye to eye with them. They’re never going to look beyond their own version of who they wish I was and love me for who I am.
And I’ve come to terms with that.
But I refuse to let them get in the way of my relationship with Beth or my niece.
So the next morning, Walker and I wake up and get ready for the baptism. He stands behind me in the bathroom mirror and watches as I apply my makeup, as if he’s scared to take his eyes off of me.
I turn around and kiss him, assuring him I’m not going anywhere.
I feel stronger this morning. The desire for a sip from that bottle I bought last night still lives in the back of my mind, but it’s overpowered by my thankfulness to my own strength that I didn’t do exactly that.
We get dressed and pack our bags up, loading them into the car and driving to the same church as last night, only this time it’s filled to the brim with people. He holds my hand as we weave through the crowd, the stares for me and not him for once as people who knew me from years ago recognize my face.
I keep my head high, returning the smiles I’m offered and holding back from returning the scowls.
We find Beth and Christopher up front talking with his parents and join them. We join in on the small talk, steering clear of any conversation of last night. I hold my niece, enjoying the way she laughs in my arms and the innocence she possesses.
When my parents arrive, Walker and I excuse ourselves and take a seat, not wanting to engage with them here when the moment is meant for Beth and her family.
The service is long and boring, just like I remember but I find comfort in it strangely.
At the end, Ruth along with two other children are baptized and welcomed anew with applause from the patrons. Seeing the way Beth and Christopher smile down at Ruth and are filled with joy by having her, I know in my heart that there is good here.
Even among people like my parents who twist it for their own selfish standard.
We don’t stick around for long after the service, saying a quick goodbye to Beth and promises are made to keep in touch with each other more often and a potential visit out to L.A. I smile at the idea of seeing Beth in a large city.
I offer to drive us back to Charlotte. The bags under Walker’s eyes give away his need for rest and he agrees, handing over the keys and he’s asleep within minutes on the road.
The radio plays softly, and I hum along, not wanting to disturb him.
When we arrive, he’s sleeping so soundly it takes a few minutes for him to wake and realize the car has stopped. I took us to the venue for tonight’s show and parked by the buses. We don’t have enough time to go to the hotel before sound check.
Walker yawns and stretches. “That was a fast drive.”
“It is when you sleep the whole way.” I poke the bare skin that’s exposed as his shirt rides up.
We hop out of the car and I’m immediately swept up in a hug.
“You’re crushing me.” I wheeze against Boone’s shoulder.
“Don’t care,” he says, holding me tighter for a beat, before setting my feet back on the ground.
His eyes dance over my face, as if the text I sent last night letting him know I was okay wasn’t enough until he saw me with his own eyes.
“Don’t do that again, please,” he tells me and his words land a swift punch into my gut once again at the worry I put him through.
“Okay,” I tell him, not making false promises because I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I don’t know how I’ll feel tonight, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year.
