“So you lied to an entire school?” I snapped, the anger bubbling up again.
I didn’t care how soft his voice was or how sorry he looked.
“I didn’t lie,” Wes said, shaking his head. “Tyler introduced me. I just… didn’t correct anyone.
I didn’t say I was Tom. I just stood there.”
I looked away, down at the gravel under our feet. One small rock had caught in my shoe, and it dug at my heel with every breath I took.
“You should’ve told me,” I muttered.
“I know,” he said quietly.
“I was afraid you’d say no. And he needed someone. I just wanted to be there for him.”
My throat tightened.
I stared at the car, at Tyler in the backseat.
He was humming to himself, smiling, drawing shapes into the foggy glass with his finger. Happy. For once, truly happy.
“He’s not ready, is he?” I asked, my voice soft now.
Wes shook his head.
“No. He’s trying, though. He misses Tom.
A lot. We both do.”
There was something in his voice, something honest and gentle. It made me remember the quiet ways Wes had always helped—fixing the gutters, carrying heavy boxes, showing up when no one else did.
He never tried to replace Tom.
He just… stayed close.
“I didn’t want Tyler to lie,” I said.
“He didn’t lie,” Wes replied. “He just needed to believe in something. Just for a day.
That someone would be there.”
I sighed, long and heavy. Maybe it wasn’t really lying. Maybe it was just love, dressed up in a story.
“We can’t keep this up,” I said, watching the leaves fall one by one.
“I know,” Wes nodded.
“But maybe we can help him let go. Together.”
His hand brushed mine. It was warm and still.
Not grabbing. Not pushing. Just there.
And for the first time in years, I didn’t pull away.
I let him stand beside me in the silence. And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t feel quite so alone.
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