Yours to Keep by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Twenty-Six

Vance

After leaving Darren’s house,I make my way to Dr. Sanders’s place. It’s not until I’m knocking on the door when it hits me. I forgot to text him. What if he’s not in town? I shouldn’t barge in and interrupt his weekend because my boyfriend has a family crisis and I felt attacked by said family.

“Yes?” A girl, well, she’s more like a young woman, opens the door to Dr. Sanders’s house. She gives me a curious glance and then smiles. “Can I help you?”

I assume she’s the doc’s daughter, not that she looks much like him. I guess it’s because she’s female with delicate features. She’s beautiful. A lot shorter than Dr. Sanders. I’m guessing she’s about five-six. Her eyes are green. Dark green. And her curly bronze-colored hair is very different from his white hair. I study her features closely. She reminds me of someone. I just can’t remember who.

But does it matter? I have an emergency. “Is Dr. Sanders around?”

She blinks a couple of times and shakes her head.

“He’s not?” I ask, alarmed.

“Sorry, yes. He’s here. I didn’t mean to…” She trails her words and turns her head slightly, as if looking over her shoulder. When I follow her gaze, I notice she’s staring at the glass door that leads to the backyard. At least, I think she’s looking in that direction.

“It won’t take long,” I promise, trying not to snap. It’s hard to talk calmly when I’m raging, but the last thing I want is to scare her.

“Dad, someone is here for you,” she calls out and then opens the door wider so I can walk inside.

A guy comes running from the backyard. “Who is it?”

“I’m guessing Dad’s patient,” she answers, and the way she says the last word is strange.

The guy glances at me and turns around. Without saying a word, he leaves. I don’t get a good look at him, though. He’s tall. I assume he’s as tall as Dr. Sanders and maybe looks like him? Well, that’s two out of six children, or was it thirteen. I can’t remember. And maybe they are foster children, which explains why this woman doesn’t look much like him.

“Vance,” Dr. Sanders says. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“I’m sorry to come unannounced. I should’ve texted or called. I see that you’re busy. I’ll—”

“Stop, boy,” he says as I’m about to turn around. “I have time to listen. Why don’t we sit in the dining room?”

“We should be working on something else, Dad.”

“Avery, go to the backyard with your siblings. As I said, we can’t just…” He lets out a loud breath. “I promise we’ll do it soon, okay.”

“It’s the perfect timing,” she insists.

“No. We just went through this. Can you give us some space?”

“Fine,” she says with the attitude of a teenager. She glares at me and walks away.

He shakes his head. “I swear they can’t leave well enough alone.”

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?” I insist. “I don’t want to overstep.”

“Let’s focus on you, Vance. You don’t just drop by to chat. Why are you angry and disappointed?” He marches toward the dining room, pulls out a chair so I can sit, and then takes a seat next to me.

I stare at the chair for a couple of beats. I am fuming after the encounter with Dare’s parents but also disappointed in Dare. Maybe in me. If I had paid more attention to him, I’d know what the deal with his family is. Instead, I just did what I always do, have sex and ignore the rest. Lately, I’ve been distracted. Too distracted.

“How do you know I’m angry and not concerned, sad, worried…”

“You’re snapping, and there’s an edge to your voice that’s not usually there,” he answers. “Do you want to share, or do you want us to go on a hike?”

A hike sounds great. I could use some physical activity to burn through the anger, but I wouldn’t ask for it because his family is here. Which means I should start talking so I can leave soon.

“His parents are in town,” I say. “Darren’s parents.”

I glance at the glass door where there are people. From where I sit, I can count maybe four of them. I feel watched, not that they can see me. I’m pretty sure it’s as hard for them to see me as it is for me to see them.

“So you have to play the part of the boyfriend,” the doc prompts me, bringing my attention back to him.

I let out a breath, hoping to release the tightness in my chest. My lungs barely let any oxygen in or out. It’s not like I care about his parents’ acceptance, but… “I was at the bar doing the Oktoberfest challenge,” I start my story and go through everything up until I left Dare’s house.

“They treated me like some opportunistic drunk who’s using their son,” I complain. “Do you know what’s the worst part?”

I can’t believe Darren didn’t stop them. He should’ve said something to his father. It was his house, his family, his obligation to put his foot down and stop the harassment. He almost apologized for my existence.

“Vance, what is the worst part?”

“Darren didn’t say anything. He froze,” I say, standing up and pacing through the living area. “It’s like he was ashamed of me, himself. I couldn’t take it, and I confronted his father. It’s like something snapped inside me, and all I want to do is jump on a plane and face my grandfather and my mother. They always act as if I’m a sin, not a person. I think Dare just did the same. I’m not sure what his damage is, though, and I don’t care. It’s not like we were together.”

I come to a halt, shoving my hands inside my pockets and staring at the dark wood floor. The last two sentences don’t feel right. I care about him even when we’re not together. It fucking hurt to be standing there, taking blows that I didn’t deserve, and he didn’t do shit.

“Are you sure that you don’t care?”

“Does it matter?”

“Your feelings are important. You matter.”

I lift my gaze and say, “I kissed him at the bar. I’m sure our picture is on social media, and I’m glad that it’s finally out because I hate not being able to kiss him whenever and wherever I want. But I’m not sure what’s next for me, and he probably won’t need me since his parents hated me. And it’s not like I can offer him anything because I feel broken.”

I tap my chest, trying to soothe the pain. “For the first time, I can feel all the broken pieces inside my soul. Do you know how long it’s going to take to repair the damage?”

“Maybe you’re aware because, for the past six months, you’ve counted the pieces and put them together where they belong. Like any broken bone, it hurts because it’s starting to heal. But”—he takes a long pause—“It. Is. Healing.”

He’s wrong. “You’re an optimist, and you have to remember you’re talking to a pessimist.”

“That’s a lie. You’re not hopeless. The problem with you is that you strategize so much you even calculate the risks, and when something looks too risky, and you feel like it’ll fail, you choose to abandon it. Why waste your time when other things are worth doing?”

This guy is so fucking annoying. Why not let me just live in my own misery? From day one, he keeps giving me hope,. I don’t need it. “That’s me, and I stick to my theories. If it’s not going to work, why continue?”

“You could take the risk,” he insists. “And then you might make the biggest mistake of your life and walk away from what can be your happiness. You’re risking your future. What kind of risk are you trying to avoid?”

Being miserable for the rest of my life. I’m about to say that I’ve never been happy, but I stop because I’ve experienced happiness for the past six months. It wasn’t only about Dare but also my brothers. I finally trusted them and let my guard down. Everything happened because I moved to Baker’s Creek. It was a risk I would’ve avoided if it had been a choice. I did it out of obligation.

I study the good doc. He’s so annoying, but he’s right. “You want me to talk to him, don’t you?”

He smirks. “No. I want you to do what you feel is right. Sometimes, you have to lead with your emotions. It’s not all about risk assessment. Plans are good, but your life shouldn’t depend on them. Life happens whether you like it or not. If you wait until the perfect moment, you might turn seventy and die a lonely man. And maybe you’re not afraid of losing him or losing your family. You’re afraid of losing yourself again because you’ve been given a part back that you’ve repressed for so long.”

He stands up and pats my shoulder. “And it’s okay. It’s perfectly fine to be afraid and to give yourself to others. Just know that you have people who care for you, who love you. You’re not alone. If you ever need me, you know how to find me.”

I glance at him, uncertain of what to say or what to do. This guy never ceases to amaze me. Some days, he listens. On others, he makes me work while telling me stories that resonate with my mind and my heart. Then at times, he sounds like a motivational speaker, like today.

“Don’t give up,” he says. “There’s a lot more to you. There’s a person hiding deep down who deserves to stop living in the shadows. Be that strong person you know you can be, okay.”

I turn to the glass window, and I see them.

I see them.

I recognize them, even when I don’t know them.

My focus changes from Dare to them.

What the fuck?