Page 85 of Love You Madly

Fuck.

Okay, what I mean is, she swears a lot. Like… A LOT. She was throwing F-bombs into our conversation like it was confetti or glitter or sprinkles or some shit.

I mean, I swear a lot in my mind but usually I don’t curse out loud all that much. I’ve gotten so used to watching my mouth around Barrett that keeping all thefucksinside my head has become second nature.

She issonot the kind of girl you take home to mom. Well, not the kind of girl most moms would love anyway. Except mine. I can’t help but think of how well she would get along with my mom because this girl is no bullshit.

Now I’m getting ahead of myself and I have no doubt that I’m spiraling. My chest tightens, and I struggle to catch my breath. The familiar signs of a panic attack are creeping in. I pull over just outside of Hawkridge, the truck coming to a stop on the gravel shoulder. The image hums softly as I rest my head against the steering wheel, trying to steady my breathing.

My palms are starting to sweat on the steering wheel and I know myself well enough to know that I need to get a handle on my anxiety before I drive any further. I just need to gathermy thoughts and make a plan. Times like this make me wish Uncle Teddy was still here. He would know what to do.

These last several months without him have been brutal. Honestly, I think that is why Vince has thrown himself into working so much. Not only does he have a child to provide for but he doesn’t want to cope with the loss either. And Vince won’t listen when I try to remind him that his dad just had a heart attack and maybe he should think about slowing down instead of ramping up his stress levels because working at the prison cannot possibly be a low-stress job on its own.

Uncle Teddy always knew how to help me untangle the mess in my head. But he’s gone now. I’m on my own with this one. When he died, I was in the middle of weaning myself off tranquilizers I’d been taking for years due to the severe panic disorder I was diagnosed with in college because I felt entirely too numb. Teddy was the one who encouraged me to get help for my panic attacks when I didn’t think Dad would understand because he’d always compartmentalized things and avoided talking about feelings.

The week that Teddy died was my second week without the medication. I didn’t realize it then, but coming off that anti-anxiety medication was notoriously tough. I had been reckless about stopping it because I was just so tired of feeling numb. I didn’t want to be that way anymore, especially not when I had Barrett. So, I quit cold turkey.

The emotions I’d suppressed with medication flooded back all at once, overwhelming me. About a month after Teddy died, my doctor reached out, concerned about why I hadn’t been refilling my prescription. She was incredibly worried when I told her I’d stopped taking them and said I was lucky I didn’t have a seizure during the withdrawal period.

Teddy’s death hit me like a freight train, and I’ve been struggling to regain my footing ever since. I know I shouldprobably get on something again but I just need to feel for a while. Maybe not feel THAT much, but at least feel something.

My breathing slows, but the ache in my chest remains. First thing’s first, I need to end things with Karissa. Regardless of whether or not things with Callie develop into more than friendship, I know that Karissa isn’t someone I can see myself with long term. The thought of breaking up with her knots my stomach, but it’s something I have to do.

I glance at my phone, contemplating calling Vince, but I know he’s probably at work. Instead, I sit in the darkness, the occasional car passing by, headlights briefly illuminating the interior of my car. I need to focus. I need to find a way to handle all of this. But I need to take it one step at a time.

Taking a deep breath, I decide instead to send Karissa a text message asking her to meet me for brunch in the morning. I need to rip off the band-aid as soon as possible. I slip my phone back into my pocket and put the truck into drive again, determined to face this so I can move on.

Standing in my kitchen the next morning, the smell of freshly cooked bacon and eggs fills the air. I have set the table with care, the brunch spread looking almost too perfect for what I’m about to do. The sunlight streaming through the window feels mocking, too bright for the weight of this moment. My stomach churns with nerves as I hear Karissa’s car pull up outside. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

This needs to happen.

The doorbell rings, and I quickly wipe my hands on a towel before heading to the door. I open it to find Karissa standingthere, her face lighting up with a smile that makes what I am about to do even harder.

“Hey, Owen!” she greets cheerfully, stepping inside. “This smells amazing.”

“Hey, Karissa,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. “Come on in. I figured we could have brunch here. More private.”

“That sounds perfect,” she says, slipping off her shoes and following me into the dining area. She looks around, taking in the effort I’ve put into the meal. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thanks,” I say, forcing a smile.Fuck. She must think this is my way of apologizing to her for upsetting her Thursday when she wanted to meet Barrett.“Let’s sit.”

We take our seats, and I serve the food, my mind racing with how to start the conversation. The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. We eat in silence for a few awkward moments before I finally gather the courage to speak.

“Karissa, we need to talk,” I begin, setting my fork down and looking her in the eyes.

Her expression shifts, concern flickering in her gaze. “What’s going on, Owen?”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of my words. “I think we both know that things aren’t really working here. And after a lot of thinking, I’ve realized that we’re just not what I’m looking for long-term. It’s not fair to either of us to keep this going when I don’t see a future here.”

Karissa’s face falls, her eyes widening in shock. “You’re breaking up with me?”

“Yes,” I say, my voice soft but firm. “I’m sorry, Karissa. I just don’t think this is working.”

Karissa's eyes are wet with unshed tears, her lip quivering.She fumbles in her bag, hands shaking. I brace myself for what’s coming. “You… you can’t do this,” she whispers, pulling something from her purse with trembling fingers.

Before I can react, a small white object lands in the middle of my plate. My stomach lurches.

A pregnancy test.

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