Wasted Time (The Steel City #1)

50. Penny

CHAPTER FIFTY

penny

“You need to go home and shower,” Wyatt murmurs, dropping a card onto the bed. “You stink.”

I shoot him a look, handing over my seven. “I will when your parents come back.”

He rolls his eyes but smiles a bit anyway. “I don’t know how you convinced them to go and get some sleep but thank you. They were suffocating me.”

“They’re worried about you,” I remind him gently. “Can you go?”

He shakes his head, so I put down another card.

“I know,” he mutters.

“Hey,” I whisper, reaching over to take his hand in mine. I squeeze. Three times. “We’re here to support you, not judge what you did. All of us know that it’s more complicated than you just making a decision, Wy. Even if not all of us get it.”

His dad. I’m talking about his dad.

When his family had first walked in, his mother had nearly collapsed with relief seeing her baby boy breathing and alive, but his dad... I watched him carefully, convinced that he was going to smack his own son. He didn’t. He just stood off to the side and watched while his mother and sister clung to him as if they wanted to permanently become attached.

I have developed an understanding of the type of man Mr. Caulfield is over the last day. I don’t think he’s a bad man, and I don’t think he is a bad father, but I think he has an old-school type of mindset. You don’t take your own life because you're sad. You man-up.Feelings? Bury them.

It’s not hard to see why Wyatt doesn’t want to tell him who he is, or how what he was wrestling with made him think that there was no way out. I don’t think Mr. Caulfield would understand.

Let me be fucking clear. Right here, right now: there is nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing wrong with Wyatt Caulfield and who he’s loved and will love in his lifetime.

“I don’t want to be medicated for the rest of my life, Pen.”

Yeah, his depression is the part that scares me too, because I know what it made him do.

I brush my thumb against his wrist, dropping my cards to the blankets.

“We don’t know what the future looks like. The most important thing is that you’re here for it. You’ll work with the doctors to formulate a plan that helps you.”

“I think I need therapy, too.”

My eyes water as he fiddles with his cards. My heart does a little leap of joy. That statement is a good sign, right? It’s an indication that he wants to get better.

“I think that’s a good idea,” I whisper.

Those coffee-coloured eyes flicker up to mine, throat bobbing. “I spent so much time trying to be somebody else that I don’t really know how to be myself anymore.”

My heart aches as I study his handsome face. I know our circumstances are entirely different, but I’ve lost myself before, too. “It’s never too late for that.”

He dips his chin but can’t seem to hold my gaze. “Did you suspect it?”

I angle my head. “Suspect what?”

That he was gay? That he was depressed? I’m not sure what he wants to know. Either way, the answer is no. I overlooked everything and assumed the things he was showing me were the truth. He’s one of my closest friends. I have never suspected that he’s been hiding things from me with a charming smile and the biggest, warmest hugs.

“That there was something going on with me?”

“I had no indication that you weren’t okay,” I admit quietly, feeling that familiar weight in my chest. “That scares me. I should have been more perceptive.”

“No,” he said, clearing his throat. “No, I got way too good at hiding it. That’s the thing. There wasn’t anything you could have done to change what happened. None of you could have known.”

I reach forward again, snatching his hand in mine.

“You scared the hell out of me. Please… please never do that again. Come to us. To me. Talk to someone if it ever gets that dark again.”

He smiles tightly, unable to meet my eyes. He stares at our hands, squeezing mine. “Love you, too, P.”

“Playing cards without us?” EJ gasps, rounding the corner.

Wyatt quickly wipes his eyes.

I straighten, glancing over my shoulder to the two familiar faces who just entered the room. One that I want to see, and the other that still hurts me to look at.

Declan flashes Wyatt a cheeky smile, trying to lift his spirits, and then his eyes drift to me. He nods, outstretching his hand. It’s the second time he’s reached for me in the past few days, and it feels just as painful as the first.

He passes me a hazelnut latte as EJ hands Wyatt a dark roast.

“We figured you’d still be here,” he says gently. “Extra cinnamon.”

Something swirls in my stomach. I push it deep, deep back down.

“Thank you,” I say. I try to search his eyes for an answer to a question I haven’t asked.

He smiles softly at me, seeing past my armour and to my beaten and battered soul. After a moment, he looks away, back to Wyatt.

“Looks like you have time to go home and shower now,” Wyatt points out. “My parents might not be here for a while, but my babysitters are. You have no more excuses.”

“She smells that bad, huh?” EJ grins, falling into the seat beside Wyatt’s bedside, he kicks his feet up on the foot of the bed.

“Terrible,” Wyatt grunts, jokingly.

“I apologize that I don’t want you to have to play cards alone,” I scoff, but I move to stand. He’s right. I haven’t been home in far too long, I need to go and shower, change my clothes, and just… breathe for a minute.

“Penny,” Wyatt says. I turn to him, pausing when I see the serious look on his face. “Get some rest. Don’t come running back here. I’ll be fine. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

My throat bobs, and I feel EJ and Declan’s weighted stares. “I’ll be back.”

“Take the rest of the night off,” Wyatt says. His voice softens. “Please.”

“The doctor said he won’t be admitted into the other unit until tomorrow afternoon,” EJ reminds me.

It’s funny, he can’t acknowledge that Wyatt will be going to a mental health ward. We won’t be able to contact him for about a week, if not longer.

EJ can’t seem to say those words.

“If you guys want boy time, you can just say that.” I roll my eyes, trying to add some humor into this conversation.

Wyatt is scared for tomorrow. I don’t want him to think it’s a big deal. I mean, it is a huge deal, but it’s a good thing. They’re going to help him in a way that we can’t.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Wyatt tells me, reaching for my hand. He squeezes my fingers. “You’re one of the greatest people in my life, Sweeten. I mean that.”

I swallow, my eyes burning. I squeeze his fingers back. “You text me if you need anything, alright?”

He flashes a toothy, crooked smile. He looks more like Wyatt than he has in the last few days. “I will.”

“No parole,” I remind him.

He rolls his eyes. There is that grin. “No parole.”

He’s not going to text me. Not even if he wants to. He’s going to make sure I have some time to wind down and rest. I’ll give that to him, if that’s what he wants, but I will be back bright and early with bells on and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“See you later, P,” EJ says with a wave as I round the bed.

I smile at both him and Declan, because why not?

“Thanks for the coffee. Take care of him, alright? Wipe his ass for him if he asks you too.”

Declan lets out a deep chuckle, shaking his head.

“With a smile on my face,” EJ announces proudly, earning a deep, bellowing laugh from the guy in the bed.