Page 25 of Unwanted

He rubs at his eyes, and I just watch him, taking in every slight movement, every miniscule change.

“What’s going on with Lennox?” Clem asks. “Besides the obvious.”

“Nothing,” he answers quickly. “We’re just working together on what comes next.”

“So, he’s suddenly forgiven you?”

Neither of us miss the snarkiness in her tone, but instead of biting back, he inhales and leans forward. Elbows resting on his knees, his chin drops to his chest.

It takes a few long seconds before he glances back up, tired eyes darting between us both before settling on me. “I don’t expect anyone to forgive me, but I needed him to know I was here.”

His eyes bore into mine, and I force myself to look away. This isn’t the time to get swept up in subtle apologies and declarations.

Between his words and Clem’s I need to remind myself of boundaries before I get caught up in an ocean of emotions that have me wanting to get high in order to cope.

In a perfect world, he would give a perfect apology, and I would be the perfect man, satisfied and accepting and we could all live a perfect life, together.

But neither of us lives in that world.

Especially not me.

I think of Jenika asking me what’s the worst thing that could happen with Frankie’s return, and I realize it’s not just about me hearing the truth about why he left me, but it’s also how I’ll deal with that truth.

When you grow up in the foster care system, abandonment is almost always a trigger. Combine it with a lack of self-worth, the fear of never being enough, and the truth that maybe there really is no value in your existence—and you get a young boy whose first crush was alcohol, his first infatuation, cocaine, and his first love, heroin.

With every high, I fell deeper. I was tangled in that web and I had no plans of getting out.

I wanted to drown in the drugs.

I wanted to die in the drugs.

I didn’t want to face the demons of my past, and I didn’t want to think further than the present. I lived in the moment, masking my feelings and learning it was much better to deny, not only that something was wrong, but that anything was even worth fixing.

And now, I was far from cured, but I was better.

I was better, without Frankie.

I was better without knowing all the reasons I hadn’t been enough.

I didn’t need to risk all that for a truth I knew my addiction and I couldn’t handle.

Did I?

“I think I’m going to go,” I announce, standing up and surprising both Clem and Frankie. “I have to go to work.”

It probably seemed out of left field to him, after the morning we’d shared, and how much I did love being in his presence, but I needed to get out of there and I needed to do it quickly.

“Are you coming back?” Frankie asks, and I can tell the question throws him off just as much as it does me.

“I don’t know yet,” I say honestly. “But I’m going to text Lennox and check in with him anyway.”

“Right. Lennox.” Frankie swallows hard and turns his face away from me, but not quick enough for me to miss his disappointment. When his gaze finally returns to mine, he offers me a tight smile. “Thank you for this morning.”

“Not a problem,” I say, as casually as possible.

I shift my gaze to Clem, who I know has been watching our interaction intently the whole time.

“I’ll see you at home?”

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