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Chapter Twenty-Seven
Holt
It was strange being at a race without Watson, but he had decided last night he didn’t want to go to Charlotte this weekend. Mom had said she would come and check on him throughout the day since I would be home at night. The track was so close to home I would be able to be there at night with him. If I were being honest, I didn’t like being there without him. I knew that he was struggling; I saw it every single time someone brought it up or when Dr. Sherman told him yesterday that no, no chance of him getting back into the car any time soon. He just wasn’t ready yet.
Watson was still tired. He was still sleeping a lot more than he had before the seizure, though not as much as when it first happened, which was close to twenty hours a day, but it still was more than he had been before.
Friday night when I got home, I found Watson sitting on the couch flipping through his phone, alone, which surprised me. Mom was supposed to be here until I relieved her. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed, and I could immediately tell he was angry about something.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked causally, trying not to make things worse. When he didn’t answer, I took a step closer. “Watson? Everything all right?” I hated to say I was getting used to this version of him, but it was his normal lately.
He turned his dark eyes on me. Eyes that were full of anger and confusion. “I sent her home, Holt. What the fuck are these?” He held his phone out to me.
I moved closer. “What’s...” On his phone was a picture of us. In the hammock in the backyard of our parents’ house. Happy and smiling. Fear clawed at my brain. “Uh...”
“When was this taken?” When I didn’t answer, he climbed to his feet toward me. “Holt, when the fuck did I take these pictures of us?” He turned the phone back, and I could see he was flipping through more. Pictures from that week, when we went to the abandoned track, when we were exploring everything and having so much fun together. “How long have we been together? Why didn’t you tell me? Did you want to break up with me? Did we break up?” Watson lifted his gaze back to me.
“The doctors said it was—”
“You didn’t tell me we were together? We were in love? Did Mom and Dad know? Is that why they’ve been acting so fucking weird? Is... is this our apartment?” He stumbled back at the question. “Am I the boyfriend Carson said you had? Do you not love me anymore? Is that why you didn’t tell me? Why did you let me come here if you don’t want me? I don’t... Why... Oh my God!” He started back to the bedroom. “I should have left with Mom. I can’t be here with you right now.”
I chased after him. “Watson, wait. Just talk to me.” I touched his arm, but he shrugged me off. “Please, just let me explain.”
“I think you already explained more than enough without saying anything,” he snapped and then he stopped, reached forward to yank the necklace out from under my shirt. “Holy fucking shit. This is mine.”
I tried to grab it back, but he ripped it right off my neck, causing pain to vibrate through my body. “No, Watson, that’s... You gave that to me,” I told him. “You love me. I love you. That part is true. You...Don’t take that away from me. It’s all that I have left.”
“You love me? You fucking love me? If you love me, why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me go on thinking I was having these dreams when they weren’t just dreams? They were memories.” He shoved the necklace into the pocket of his jeans. “You don’t fucking deserve this.”
“Watson!” I exclaimed. “Don’t!” Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I smacked them away.
“I’m leaving.”
“No! Please don’t leave like this. Let’s talk about this.” I felt like I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “I love you, Watson, please. I beg you.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I don’t remember loving you, Holt, because this is a shitty thing you’ve done to me.” He shoved his feet into his shoes. “I don’t need my clothes back. Burn them, throw them away, whatever you want. I really don’t give a damn,” he sneered, then slammed the front door behind him.
A sound I had never heard ripped from my throat. I was going to tell him. I had planned on telling him, but with everything that had happened, his seizures, I kept putting it off. I dropped to my knees in front of the door.
“Come back,” I heard myself whimper. “Please, Watson, come back.”
But he didn’t.
I curled up into a fetal position and cried until I had nothing left. Screamed and sobbed until I had no voice. Then I managed to move to the bathroom, where I pulled off my clothes, stared at myself in the mirror, and tried to figure out where I had gone wrong. The swollen eyes from crying, the red lines around my neck from where Watson had ripped the necklace right off me. I felt like my entire world had changed in a blink of an eye.
***
“You look like shit,” Mason commented when he saw me the next morning. “What’s going on with your face?”
I ignored him and kept walking, hoping he would just leave me alone. I had texted Mom last night before going to bed, after the longest shower of my life, and she said that Watson was there, wasn’t talking, and had locked himself in his room. When she asked me what happened, I left her on read and tried to sleep, but I was lucky if I got two hours. I was a wreck and was dreading being at this race.
“Uh, hello?” Mason grabbed my arm.
I whipped around. “What?” I exclaimed. “What do you fucking want, Mason?”
“Okay, relax.” He held his hands palms out. “Don’t go all Shepard on me.”
