Page 32 of Unwanted

Gathering my belongings, I lock up my office and head to the main floor to find Rhys. I do need to get to the hospital and see Lennox. While he and I have been texting since his accident, and he’s well aware of why I’ve kept my distance, I need to stop avoiding the place and see him in the flesh.

Maybe Rhys won’t mind coming. I spot him looking a lot more relaxed, his hair wet and styled off his face.

He smiles warmly when he sees me, and I hear Clem’s voice in my head.

Does he think this is a date?

As if he can read my mind, the first words out of his mouth when I reach him are, “This isn’t a date is it?”

Rendered speechless, my mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water.

“I mean, you’re great and extremely attractive,” he says. “But, I—”

I raise a hand to interrupt him. “This isn’t a date.”

His shoulders relax almost immediately and I can’t help but laugh. “Should I be offended by how relieved you are right now?”

Worry mars his face. “No. Shit. I’m sorry.”

“I’m kidding,” I quickly assure him. “I know how it is when you’re first trying to get your life together. And for the record, I don’t do dating, or relationships, or really any kind of thing that distracts me from sobriety.”

“You think being with someone will ruin my sobriety?” he asks, his tone deflated.

“No.” I grab his shoulders and hold his gaze. “I think ifIwas with someone, itmightruinmysobriety.”

It was a half truth, but it was the one thing that had gotten me through the last four years as a celibate man.

It was the one thing that soothed the ache in my heart that Frankie left behind. The one thing that made every single hard road I had traveled without him worth it.

My sobriety was mine, and even though, more often than not, I hated myself, I still allowed myself to be proud of the fact that I was here. I was sober. And I was alive.

Rhys seems to understand what I’m saying, and his expression turns from fear to concern.

“You really haven’t been with anyone since becoming sober? How long’s it been now?”

Without interrupting the conversation, I walk us to the gym exit and talk at the same time.

“It’s been four years,” I reveal. “Which sounds like a lot.”

Rhys scoffs as the glass doors automatically open. “Four years is an amazing feat, Arlo. I can only dream of making it to four years sober right now. But no sex? Don’t you miss it?”

Did I miss it?

I didn’t have a concrete answer for him, because the sex I remember having was toxic. It was too entwined with my addiction and too caught up in my feelings for Frankie.

It was a mess I had no plans to untangle. Not now, or not with Rhys anyway.

“Hey,” I say, changing the subject. “Do you mind if we detour to the hospital before dinner?”

“The hospital?” He gives me a quick once over. “Are you okay? Did I miss something?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” A soft chuckle leaves my mouth as I shake my head. “I should’ve explained that better. My foster brother had a football accident the other day and my foster siblings are all at the hospital now and asked if I could pop in.”

It was the most concise explanation I could give without going into too much detail, and thankfully Rhys seems content, choosing not to ask questions or want more information.

He whips his head up and his eyes light up a little. “If you’re sure they won’t mind. I don’t really have any other plans.”

His reaction confirms his loneliness, and I hope, even in the worst of circumstances and strangest of places, he can find some solace being around new people.

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