The Boy I Grew Up With

Channing finally looked up. His eyes were shining. “He gave me a baseball that spring and my first catching mitt. He gave me cleats. He made sure I had everything I needed for the next year with sports.”

I was speechless.

“Third grade, you told me you would care. It was the first time I’d heard that phrase in a long while. My mom…she cared, but she was too exhausted from life. The moments when a mom makes her child feel loved, I didn’t get those, not enough. So yeah, when you said it, it stuck out to me. I realized then you were my best friend.”

A tear slipped down my cheek. I did remember that.

“Fourth grade, I kissed you on the cheek.”

I gasped. “You did not.”

“I tried. You gave me a black eye.” He chuckled, but his voice was still soft, still rough. “Then in fifth grade, we held hands.”

“Your friends,” I said accusingly, “tried to steal my Halloween candy.”

He smirked. “You’re right. It was just your candy.”

I snorted.

“In sixth grade, I realized you were jealous of other girls.”

Another snort, but damn, it was true. I growled. “Fucking Tate. She was bad news from the start. I should’ve known.”

“When you were in seventh grade, we kissed.”

I remembered. I remembered what else had happened that year too.

“You never told anyone.” He knew what I was talking about.

“Your mom left, again. But I would’ve.” His eyes were fierce, steadfast on me. “If you had continued, I would’ve.”

Aaand my throat was swelling once again.

His head dropped again. “My mom died that year, and you held my hand during the funeral.”

My face was getting hot. We did more than hold hands that night.

“My dad was abusive to me, and she was gone, and that—that was the start of the end for me. I was out of control, but you were my constant. Everything else in my life was fucked up, and the only time some of the storm went away was with you. Sometimes I needed you desperately, and sometimes I hated you for it. I hated needing you. I hated loving you. I hated depending on you, and I knew all of that even in fucking eighth grade. Shit. I knew that earlier on. You were mine. It was just the way it was.”

More tears.

I hated those things.

“There was a blackness in me. It ate me up every day, more and more, and I pushed you away.” A dry laugh slipped from him. “I didn’t realize I would push you all the way to Fallen Crest. Fuck me. That’s what I thought when you went, but then I thought maybe it would be better for you. Better school. Better community. I wouldn’t be dragging you down.” He bit out the last sentence, shaking his head. “I didn’t let you go. I shoved you away. I had no one except my guys, but I swear, Heather. I swear. I didn’t want to pull you back. I didn’t want to—I just couldn’t stay away, but I tried. I tried so hard. You were better off without me. I knew it. Your dad knew it. You knew it. Everyone fucking knew it.”

“Channing,” I said, softly.

“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not what this is. I’m leading up to something.”

“Oh.”

He clipped out a laugh. “I told you that day I would be good enough for you one day. One day. It’s taken me almost ten years, but even though there’s no way I’ll be good enough for you, there’s no way I’m worthy of you, I’m hoping you’ll take me.”

Whaaaaaaaaat?

The oven beeped. In that weird and awkward and confusing moment, he put the pizza in. He programmed the timer, then turned to stalk toward me.

My mind was spinning. Now I wasn’t sure if it was the booze or something else.

I saw two of him for an instant.

He knelt in front of me, taking my hands in his.

What the hell is going on?

“I have not texted you back or called you—not because I’m an inconsiderate asshole. This time, it’s the opposite. Because I’ve been trying to do everything possible to get ready for you. I did all of this for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

His hands squeezed mine. He looked up at me. “It took a few days, but everything is sorted with the Red Demons.”

He told me what happened, along with the part about his dad joining up.

“Oh, Channing.” I started to kneel with him. I wanted to comfort him, touch him.

He shook his head. “No, stay there.”

“But your dad—”

“He is not a part of this conversation anymore, not after this. It’s done. The whole battle with the Red Demons, that’s done too. They won’t push into Roussou anymore. And I think my sister is okay. My crew is okay. And…” He took a breath. “I was prepared to offer myself for the guys. I was going to offer to leave the crew. I was hoping that would be good enough for them, in case something happened, but it wasn’t just an offer to the Red Demons.” He stopped, closed his eyes, kissed my hand, and started again. “I left the crew.”

I couldn’t…

There were no words.

No thoughts.

I only stared at him.

“Huh?”

“You said you wanted to do things differently. You said you wanted this to be the final time. You said we had to shit or get off the pot. You said it all, and I’m here. I’m doing all of this because I want you. I want everything you said too. I’ve changed. I made the sacrifice. I know you’ve been trying. You were going to leave Manny’s because of me, my crew, but it’s not your turn. It’s mine. It’s my time, Heather.”

He smiled, and that smile was so tender, so loving, so gentle that I started a whole new burst of tears.

“The root of our problems is me. Never you. I was fucked up growing up, and then it became about the crew, about staying away from you, then Bren. I was the root of our problems. I knew as long as I was with the crew, you weren’t first, but that’s over. I’m out. I left the crew for us, for you. It’s time,” he said again.

I blinked.

What.

The.

Fuck?

My throat was closing up.

A look of wonder came over him. He pressed a hand over my stomach. “We made a life in here. She was coming, whether we were ready or not, and I wasn’t. Not then, but I wanted it. I wanted everything she signified. Our past, present, and future. She brought everything to the forefront. We needed to get ready. There was no other choice. It was you and her, and me. I knew it then, and then we lost her, and I hated it.”

We were together that night, but like other times, we’d pulled away.

I’d pushed him away. He went away. Neither of us fought for the other.

I was ashamed.

“Channing.”

“No.”

I tried to sit down with him again, but he held me in place. His hand was warm on my stomach.

“I want another one, and if I can’t have one, I don’t care. I want you. I want the forever.”

“What?”

I was crying.

The oven was going to beep. I could smell the pizza. My stomach growled under his hand, but then his hand was gone.

He was holding—he was a holding a ring instead.

Oh… OH!

“I was going to do this in front of your staff, your brother, my guys. I had it all set up, but it didn’t feel right. Then I came here. You were drunk. You were pissed at me and feisty. You wanted your pizza, which you usually do if you’ve been drinking, and it felt right. So, I decided to do it now. I hope you’re okay with it, because with all that said…” He took a deep breath, biting down once before saying, “It’s my time to give you everything. To make you everything for me.” A slight pause. “Heather Jax, will you marry me?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">