Page 59 of Healing You
“You're going to have a great life. You're going to rescue animals, meet a man who's not terrified to put you in his car, get married and have a gorgeous family.” His declaration had her heart going again, thrumming in speedy beats against her chest, blood thundering in her head. “And I'll be the guy around town you see now and then. Because that's inevitable. And I'll help save the animals you rescue. Always. But that's all we can be to each other.”
There was a long beat of silence as she stood there stunned, her wet ponytail dripping down the back of her neck. “Don't you dare tell me what I can be,” she said quietly. “What I'll have. You don't get to live under a disillusioned umbrella that my life is going to be beautiful and fine because of some martyr-filled choice you made for me.”
“You're missing the point. I'm not being a martyr. You are better off without me.” Steve dragged his hands through his hair, his messed up tresses almost as discomposed as he was. “This isn't about my own well-being. When have I ever put that above what you want? Above what's good for you?”
“Well, if this is all really just about me—this visit and this breakup—then you should know me well enough to know that you're the last person I would want to see today. You made your choice last night. You ended us. You lost the right to just pop in whenever you feel like it.” That truth was a soft bite of pain and it tore through her. “I can't believe I let this happen again. I can't believe you're abandoning me again.”
“I guess you're right,” he said, turning for the door. He paused, reaching his hand out for the door, only instead Gatsby slid beneath it, coaxing him to pet him. “It's not because I don't love you,” he said over his shoulder.
She should have shoved him out the door then. She shouldn't have listened to what he had to say. But heart wrenching sadness and history and curiosity all won out over rationality.
“Because I do love you.” His voice broke, but he continued anyway. “It's just that my scars run a hell of a lot deeper than what you can see on my face.”
He gave Gatsby another pat on the head before opening the door. Yvonne didn't know what came over her. But she rushed for him, her body hot and sweaty, and she slammed the door shut in front of him, her blood nearly to a boiling point.
“My scars run deeper than what you see, too.” She gripped his shoulders, spinning him to face her. “But they hardened me. Made me stronger. It's about what's inside of you,” she said, shoving her finger into his chest. “The same boiling water that softens a pot of rice also hardens the egg.” It was the expression her dad had said to her as she laid in the hospital bed, the pillow beneath her head saturated with tears.
She'd expected Steve to argue her some more. Expected some sort of response or to have some punch left in him. But when he lifted his gaze to hers, those piercing blue eyes sharpened before cloaked emotion smoothed his face into a passive nod. “The thing about that, Eve... we don't get to choose to be an egg or rice. You're born as one or the other. I know I'm not perfect. I've got a shit ton of stuff to work on... but don't stand there and think you're better than me because you've managed to turn yourself off to those emotions.”
Her heart squeezed so tight that it momentarily took her breath away. “Don't go,” she whispered. “I love you, too. Stay.” She closed her hand over his. “Because this time, I don't think I can convince myself that I hate you. Which means I'm condemned to love you forever.”
Holding her gaze captive, he pushed a hand over his jaw, and she could hear the stubble scraping his hand like velcro over silk. “That feeling will fade,” he said.
“You mean like it did thirteen years ago?” He knew as well as she did that was a damn lie. Their feelings hadn't faded after high school, and they sure as shit wouldn't now either.
With that, he yanked the door open and walked out of her house. Yvonne pressed her hand against the hard wood, the grains rough against her palm and she slid to the floor, allowing the tears to flow. A wet nose touched hers and when she opened her eyes, a bleary Gatsby came slowly into focus.
Her sobs came in harder, faster waves as she clutched her dog around his neck and buried her face in his scruff.
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more passionate he got with a subject. “There's nothing they nurse. It's just basically fat mixed with “Almonds can't make real milk,” Lex said to Steve, his accent becoming more pronounced, the water and then straining the pulp.”
Steve gave a weary shrug. Lex was awesome... he liked the guy a whole lot. But more than anything that morning, he just wanted to get his iced coffee and the latte he ordered for Amanda and get the hell out of there. “The milk mammals produce is basically just fat and water as well.” He fiddled with a cup of stirrers, straightening them into a neat pile. “Besides, what else are you gonna call almond milk? No one's gonna buy something called Nut Juice.”
Lex laughed at that, snapped a lid onto the iced latte, and slid both coffees to Steve.
Minutes later, he walked into his clinic and was barraged by Amanda, grinning like a cat in a field of mice. “I aced my summer finals!” she said, holding out her arms.
Steve forced a smile. His misery shouldn't affect how proud he was of her. He pulled her into a friendly hug. “Congratulations, Amanda. What did we agree on? Iced coffees? Some booze?”
“What about a raise?” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
Steve slid a hand into his pocket. It had been over a year since he'd given her a raise.
“Oh my God,” she said, eyes widening in disbelief. “I was just kidding, but you're actually considering it?”
“How about an eight percent raise? I'd love for it to be more, but I can't afford much higher than that.”
“I totally would have done this differently if I'd thought you would take me seriously. Scheduled a meeting, discussed how your business has improved since I was hired—”
“No need,” he said. “I already know all those things.”
She squealed and threw her arms around his neck once more. “This is the best day ever! Summer sessions are over and I get a raise.”
“Call me your genie,” he said, passing her the iced latte.
“Where's your iced coffee for Yvonne?” she asked, looking at the clock on the wall. “She'll be here any minute, right?”
