I’d made myself into a better person, I knew that, but no matter how hard or long I worked, I couldn’t risk that dark side of me striking out when I least expected it. I loved Jesse too much to put him through the pain or chaos of my life.
Who knows how much time had passed, but the longer I was alone, the darker my thoughts got. The farther down that trail they went. Only when a hesitant body slipped inside the stall did a ray of light cut through my blackness. Cut through, but didn’t remove it.
“Did I give you a long enough moment?” Jesse asked, standing in the doorway of the stall like he was waiting for an invitation. “Because I can give you more time if you want.” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder.
“Come on in,” I said, patting the bale beside me and scooting over. “I’ve had more than enough moments to think.”
“How are you doing?” he asked, taking a seat next to me. “Wait. That was a stupid question.” Jesse shook his head and looked at a loss for words. “What’s been going through your mind? Besides everything?”
I gave him a small smile. “Besides everything? I suppose realizing the worst part of the night wasn’t Pierce showing up.” I played with a piece of straw. Jesse shifted closer and draped his arm around my shoulders. “The worst part was that my mom invited him here.” Jesse stared at the ground and nodded. “What Pierce did was not right, I’m not excusing that, but he was basically a stranger who had no interest in my life. My mom . . . She’s my mother. She’s the person who’s supposed to love me first, and last, and best. She’s the person who’s supposed to fight with her life to keep scumbags like Pierce out of her child’s life. She’s supposed to . . .” I had to swallow to get the word out, “care.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing my temple.
“I just don’t get it, Jesse. It’s so goddamned unfair. Why? Why does my mother hate me? Why do I feel like the biggest screw up when I’m around her? Why, after everything, do I still want her to look at me and say she’s proud of me and give me a honest to goodness hug?” Another set of tears dripped their way down my face. “I’ve got so many ‘whys’ I’ll never have answered, they’ll probably drive me insane.”
Jesse waited for me to catch my breath and dry my tears before he responded. I was so exhausted, I just sank into his arms and rested.
“We’ve all got questions. We’ve all got dark parts of us that we wonder how they got there,” he said slowly. “We all, at times, feel like the positively most screwed up person to have ever walked the planet. But you know what, Rowen? We don’t always need to know the answers. We shouldn’t get hung up on the questions we can’t answer because life, by definition, is confusing. We’re never going to have all the answers. Never. We should focus on the questions we can answer and make peace with the ones we can’t.”
It was a lovely thought and it would have looked great on an inspirational poster, but Jesse’s life was so very different from mine. His questions he couldn’t answer were easy to move past because they didn’t consume him the way mine did me.
“Jesse, I love you and I love those things you just said, but how could you even think you could compare the questions I have from my f**ked up life to the questions that have cropped up during your next-to-perfect life?” I knew Jesse had experienced pain and heartache, every human did, but there was pain and there was PAIN.
Jesse let out a long sigh. “I know my life seems idyllic, Rowen. I know you probably think I’m an idiot for drawing a parallel between your life and mine. But my life wasn’t always so great.” He paused and didn’t say anything else for what seemed like forever. “My life didn’t begin the way it is now. In fact, my life couldn’t have been more different than it is now.”
My brows came together. “What do you mean?” I looked up at him, and his eyes were somewhere else. Somewhere frightening.
“Neil and Rose are my dad and mom, Rowen. I want you to know that because that’s one of the truest things I know. But they didn’t become so until I was five years old.”
“Wait.” I shook my head, sure I was missing something. “What are you saying, Jesse?”
“I was adopted.”
I couldn’t reply. At least not right away. Had I heard him wrong? Had he said it wrong? “You were . . . adopted?”
“Yes. I was taken out of my home when I was four by Child Protective Services. From there, I drifted around in the foster care system for about a year until Neil and Rose—my mom and dad—adopted me.”
The stall spun a bit. Information was coming at me a little too fast. “C.P.S. took you away from your parents?”
Jesse cleared his throat. “They took me away from the people who conceived me.”
I wasn’t sure whose expression was more broken: his or mine. “Why?” It didn’t make sense. Why hadn’t I known? Why hadn’t anyone told me?
Jesse’s arm went rigid around me. “Because they lacked . . . parental skills.” His words were flat and emotionless, but his face wasn’t. His face gave away the pain running through him.
“What? I don’t understand.” In fact, I didn’t have a clue. “Did they hurt you? What happened?”
“Yes, they hurt me. Yes, they didn’t take care of me.” Jesse shifted and dropped his head against the wall. “The point of me telling you this now is that I wanted you to know you’re not alone, Rowen. I know what it’s like to want to curl up and die rather than get up and face another day. I know what it’s like to feel like not a single soul in the world would care if you died. I know what it’s like to lose all of your faith in humanity.”