Page 67 of F*ck You

Not only did I feel like a fool for walking away the other night like I did, I was still struggling to come to terms with everything. Seeing her behind that wheel with a bottle in her hand triggered something fucked up inside me, and I was prepared to burn my entire life down in order to keep that hurt from coming back.

Unfortunately, it didn’t work, and the pain of the past still found a way to consume me.

I listened to her retreating footsteps as she walked away. She’d hung something from the doorknob, and I so badly wanted to throw it open and find out what it was she left, but instead I dug my nails into my palms and took a step back.

I couldn’t open the door now. If she happened to turn around and see, then she’d know I was purposely ignoring her, and it would hurt her even more.

Not that she shouldn’t hurt, because she should. Pain was what made us human and kept us from falling too far. Not that she deserved it either, or even partly didn’t deserve it. But because I didn’t want to ruin the possibility of working things out whenever the hell I could get back in control of my mind and face her.

She wasn’t the terrible person I most likely made her believe she was. She was far beyond amazing, even if she had trouble seeing that at times. There were some things that went over the line for me, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I wished I would have handled things differently than I did, because regret was a bitch of an emotion.

I knew she’d probably want answers, but I already told her everything I had to say that night. I didn’t know if there was more I could even say.

Larsen was still with her though. I’d seen them earlier this morning dumping bags into the dumpster for recycled goods. He was probably telling her to give me some space and wait for me to come around. His advice could be pretty spot on at times.

What surprised me even more was what they’d tossed into that dumpster. They each had a bag where the items inside were clanging together with an annoyingly loud sound. They sounded like glass bottles, and it wasn’t until I saw them open the bags and dump them in that it was confirmed. I knew she had a box of booze when she arrived, but either she had more than I realized, or she’d accumulated even more over her time here. Either way, it did help cool me down some to see that what I’d said really reached her and she was trying to do better.

I didn’t give a shit that she drank. Yeah, I had somewhat of a hard time in the beginning with my assumptions, but she wasn’t like how Chelsea was. Once she started to move on and enjoy life, she stopped touching the stuff.

It was just the image of seeing her in the driver’s seat ready to drive away with a bottle pressed to her lips that really got to me. I snapped, and now I needed some time to spring back. It was all a pretty fucked up situation and something no one had expected.

Sure, she probably hadn’t even felt the alcohol in her system at that time since she had only downed the bottle in the moments before. But that was always Chelsea’s excuse, she thought she could reach her destination before the buzz kicked in, pushing the timeline further each time.

She did make it every time. Every time except for one.

I fell onto the couch and ran a hand down my face with a big sigh. I didn’t want to keep letting my fear of the past control my future, but it was inevitable. Right when I was debating whether to keep hiding out inside or step out, my phone rang, and I pulled it from my pocket and answered with a grunt.

“Chase, hey. Care for a visitor?”

I hesitated. It didn’t matter what my response was, if he wanted to come over then he would. He was the only other person with a key to this place, so I doubted I would be able to keep him out with a few coarse words.

“Perfect, I’ll see you soon.” The dial tone was the only thing I heard next, and I cursed. Fucker didn’t even wait for a response. What kind of moron goes over to a brooding man’s house without being accepted first?

Fucking Larsen, that was who.

I didn’t have a chance to decide whether to get off the couch or keep my ass firmly planted here before I heard a key in the lock. A moment later, Larsen barged on in with a plastic bag dangling from his hand.

“Hey, man, someone left you something on your door.”

“Set it on the counter, I’ll get it later.”

“It’s cookies.” The crown of his head poked out from the top of the bag as he rummaged around and pulled out a chocolate chip cookie. “I call dibs on this one,” he claimed, before taking a bite and walking over. He plopped the bag into my lap as he sat down next to me.

“You really know how to give a guy some space,” I grumbled.

“You’ve had all day.” He finished off his cookie, and I looked at him like he was insane. “Okay, yeah, I get it. I know you need time, but I’m also worried about you, man.”

“I’m fine. I’ll get over it if I’m left alone long enough to be able to.”

“That’s not what I mean. I know how you were when Chelsea died—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I crossed my arms over my chest and began to count the little dips in the popcorn ceiling for the millionth time. I hated this ceiling, but I never managed to get around to doing anything about it.

“I’m aware,” he growled. “You don’t need to talk about it. I’m here to sit in silence with you, no talking needed. I’m just worried about leaving you alone for too long.”

“She might need you more right now. I’m sure I freaked her out a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah you did, but she’s fine. She’s stronger than she thinks she is. What she’s worried about more right now is you.”

---