Page 32 of Sticking Around

“Is that why you always avoided me? You thought we were too different?”

“Yes and no.” She glances past my shoulders, staring into the dark of the night. “I avoided you because I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Right, which is why we’re banging and poking,” I tell her quickly as she focuses back in on me. “I’m not looking for more, either,” I continue, just in case she thinks I might be falling for her or something.

She nods in understanding. I told her enough for her to know I can’t take on the responsibility of one more person in my life.

What if you let some of the other responsibilities go?

Knowing I can’t do that, I lightly stroke her legs, heating her with my palms, and wait for her to continue. “I worked a lot.” After that statement, she goes quiet and glances down, and folds her arms across her body when a hard shiver moves through her. I take a clean towel and drape it over her shoulders to keep her warm. But I don’t think her chill is from the cool night air. “I made money, but my parents always took it.”

Okay, that takes me by surprise. I don’t think she wants pity—hell, I wouldn’t want it—so I don’t tell her I’m sorry. “Why did they do that?”

“Drinking, gambling…always out of work.” Her eyes lift and move over my face, and I keep my expression neutral. She’s not looking to shock me. “I always wanted their approval.” A beat of silence and then. “I always wanted their love.”

My throat tightens to the point of pain, making my next words hard to push out. “They withheld it.”

Her laugh is harsh, almost maniacal. “Oh yeah.” I rub my hand along her arm, offering warmth and comfort. “Here’s the thing, Brady. When I tell you there’s always a catch, it’s because there is. People don’t give without wanting something in return.”

“I’m confused. They took your money, and wanted something in return?” I take in the pain on her face and as I try to wrap my brain around that, anger and sorrow, rage and hurt hit at once. I run one hand through my hair, unable to handle the bevy of emotions. Not that I’m surprised, I’ve always buried them.

Pain registers in her eyes. “No,” she whispers that one word shattering around her as she swallows hard. “It was me. I was the one who wanted something in return.”

“You?” I realize I’m still drunk on lust, but none of this is making sense. “I don’t get it.”

“I’m the awful one. I didn’t give, without wanting in return.” Pain morphs into guilt as her eyes slide away. “I was the one who wanted something, so you see, I know first-hand what tit for tat means because I was that person. I was the one who gave money, and wanted something in return.”

Protectiveness grips every bone in my body. “Lanie.” I touch her chin, bring her gaze back to mine. “No, baby. You are not the awful one. If your parents withheld love and you gave them all your money because you thought it would make them love you, that’s on them. Kids shouldn’t have to pay for their parents’ love.”

She takes a fueling breath, her eyes full of compassion—for me—as they search my face. “Just like kids shouldn’t have to be responsible for their parents,” she whispers quietly, but she’s not trying to be mean. Her words are coming from her heart, and a part of me knows she’s right—has always known things were backward at home. It’s just…I’m responsible for them. It’s the way it’s been since we lost Dad.

Should it be that way, though, Brady?

“I guess none of our parents could stand on their own two feet, and counted on us in different ways.” The thing is, Melanie is trying to get me to see my childhood for what it is, wanting me to let things go, but holds guilt for her own actions, unable to see it how I do.

“But mine promised they’d do things with me. Hell, all I really wanted was their attention, maybe play a board game or something. I wasn’t asking for big, elaborate trips.” She sniffs and wipes her nose with the towel. “They were always so happy, and full of promises before I handed the money over, then boom, they were too busy, or sick, and couldn’t do any of the things they’d promised. Yet, I fell for it every damn time. You know what Einstein says.” She snorts out a cynical laugh. “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.”

With her face tightening warily, and paling slightly, she uncrosses her knees and I stand, moving in behind her. I adjust the back of the chair, sit back down and settle her against my chest. I lightly stroke my hands through her hair, and remain quiet as she deals with her thoughts.

She exhales slowly. “Nothing but broken promises…”

At least now I understand why she doesn’t expect anyone to hold up their end of the bargain, and has commitment issues. She expects everyone to drop the ball, and it does remind me that we can’t have more. What if I promised her something and couldn’t be there for her—like I couldn’t be there for my mom when I wrapped my car around a tree.

Yeah, okay, I see that a little more clearly now, thanks to Melanie, but it doesn’t change the fact that my biggest fear is for someone to need me and me letting them down. It could so easily happen and if I ever did that to a woman who’s had nothing but broken promises in her life, I could never live with myself.

“I went to see a school counselor, and that’s when things really changed for me.”

“For the better, I’m guessing, because look at you now, Lanie. You’re an amazing woman.”

She gives a barely there chuckle, but it’s forced. “Thanks. I’m trying to better myself.”

“You are bettering yourself.”

“That could change if I don’t make this next tuition payment,” she jokes, but there’s an underlying truth to her words. I should know. I joke about everything to hide the truth, just like she is now. “Anyway, the counselor set me up with a psychologist.”

“How did you manage to pay for that? It’s not like your parents were going to help out.”

“Right,” she says her body stiffening, and I can almost feel the tension coiling through her. “You’re pretty smart, Brady.”

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