My head falls back, and I stamp my foot, my words an almost whine. “I know.”
He hands me his cigarette, and I take it, filling my lungs with nicotine.
“Why do they keep falling in love with me?” I half joke before laughing at myself.
“Just a thought, you could maybe tell him you want to pump the brakes. You don’t have to call it off completely. You could just slow down.”
I purse my lips, holding the cigarette just shy of my mouth. “He told me he loved me last night.”
He winces. “Yikes.”
“Yeah, so I think that ship has sailed. He can’t unlove me anymore than I can force myself to love him, can he?”
“Shit, Lil. That blows.”
I nod and take a drag before stepping back to lean my head on the wall.
“Anyway, I don’t really wanna talk about it. How’re you?”
“Alright.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I’m trying.”
Trying to stay clean.
He’s been stuck in this cycle of trying since I met him years ago. It’s not my place, but I do know a thing or two about addicts, and I know for a fact he needs help. Like actual, professional help if he really wants to get clean.
I put out the cigarette and run a hand down his arm. “You know there are places that can help you.”
He drops his eyes to the ground.
“I know you think you gotta do this all on your own, but you don’t. No one even has to know. Gabe’ll cover for you.”
“I know.” He shakes his head, and I slump against the wall. I’m not the first to offer him help, but he’s not going to take it until he’s ready.
His eyes flick to the parking lot, and he mutters, “You know, if you’re trying to hide from your boyfriend, you could try the office. Gabe never locks it.”
Pushing off the wall, he moves around me and heads back inside.
I guess that conversation’s over.
When I’m half frozen and I haven’t heard anyone screaming that a natural worm whole sucked the other chapter up into another dimension, I figure it’s time for me to grow a pair.
I make it to the bar without being spotted, but after grabbing my drink, my eyes meet Tucker’s from across the room.
Just go talk to him. Let him down easy and you can both move on.
I do none of that. Instead, I drop my gaze to the floor and rush through the clubhouse and down the hall toward Gabe’s office.
This is ridiculous. I’m twenty-eight. I should be able to have a tough conversation with my boyfriend without feeling like I’m going to have a heart attack. I just have to tell him we need to slow down. He’ll either be okay with that or he won’t, and things will go back to the way they were.
But even as I’m talking to myself, I don’t turn around to confront him.
Once inside the office, I’m startled to find the man himself with his elbows on his desk, writing in that damn journal. I don’t know what he writes in there, but the man takes it everywhere with him.
“Who are you hiding from?” I chuckle.
He lifts his head. “No one,” he says, slamming the book shut. “I’m just beat. It’s been a long week.”
Flopping down in the chair across from him, I let out a long exhale.