Page 115 of The Substitute
“Bro! You’re blocking the way! Move!” some big guy in a hockey jersey yells behind me.
I’m immediately embarrassed and curl in on myself to get out of the way, but he and the group he’s with bump into me anyway. I’m fighting the current of people to get out but I can’t seem to make any progress. No one will let me through, and I’m two seconds from having an extremely public meltdown.
With my head down to hide the tears threatening to fall, I wrap my arms around myself and wait. My shoulder is bumped, and people grumble rude shit under their breath, but I hear it.
“Hey.” A voice I know better than my own is getting closer. I don’t want to look up, though, don’t want to show him how fucked up I am. Tonight is about him, not me. God I’m so selfish.
A firm hand touches my back and I flinch.
“Come on,” Ambrose says in a stern tone and I allow him to lead me outside with no hesitation. I’m not paying attention to more than my feet as he takes us somewhere and backs me against a wall. “What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t touch me but he’s standing close with his hands in his pockets.
“I went for a walk, ended up here.” My voice is so fucking small and pathetic. “I’m not trying to interrupt.”
“Seriously?” He doesn’t believe me and that hurts. Pisses me off, too.
“This might be news to you, but I don’t pay attention to where the team hangs out.” I sniff and wipe my face, allowing the anger to give me a backbone. “When I realized you guys were here, I tried to leave.”
“Or maybe you just got caught and panicked.”
I look up at him, ready to snap, and see the bruise forming on his cheek. Damn, there really were some fights tonight.
“You sure looked like you were having a bad night in there.” I fling my arm around to motion toward the bar. “Is that why you didn’t want me to know where you were?”
“We all wear masks. You better than anyone should know that,” Ambrose snaps.
“For fuck’s sake! Just say it! You don’t need me—it’s fine.” That realization is a lot more painful than I expected. I shove at his chest with both hands, but he doesn’t budge. “Get out of my way. I’m going home.”
“No. I don’t need you—I don’t need anyone! You can thank my father for that,” he says low and deep, leaning into my space.“But it’s better because I only keep around people I want to, and I want you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Insecurities swirl up like a flash flood, ready to ruin everything in its path, including my life, and I can’t stop it.
“It means I’m choosing you. I don’t give a fuck about any of those people. My teammates are that—teammates. I care about them, but they aren’t my ride or die friends. And everyone else? Fuck them. Only the people that pour into me the way I pour into them get to be in my inner circle.” Ambrose presses his body into me. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have responsibilities to the team. And it doesn’t mean I can’t have boundaries.”
“Why are you choosing me? If you don’t need me, I have no purpose! Don’t you get that? Anyone else in there would be so much fucking easier to deal with. What are you getting out of this besides a fucking headache?”
The fear of being abandoned threatens to choke me. I’m needy and annoying and depressing.
“You. I’m getting you.”
Tears run unchecked down my cheeks and clog my throat, but I push through. “You don’t get it.” The words are a choked sob.
“Then explain it to me.” Ambrose brushes my cheeks with his thumbs, wiping away the tears.
I don’t want to say the words out loud. I’ve said them to myself a million times, felt the truth of them over and over, but saying it out loud makes it so much worse. So much more real.
The sound is barely audible, but it’s there. “I’m nothing if I’m not needed.”
My lip trembles, and tears pour past my lashes. There it is. The truth of who I am. If I’m not useful, I’m useless. Disposable. Replaceable. Forgettable.
Ambrose eyebrows pull together as he takes in all the lines and dips of my face. He opens his mouth, then closes it.
I can’t take it, the silence full of my ugliest truths hanging out in the open. God, I’m a fucking mess. I shouldn’t have even tried to come out. How can I be useful to anyone if I can’t even help myself?
Pushing on his chest again, I turn my head and try to get away from him. “Just let me go please.”
“No.” He turns my face back to his, determination written in his expression now. “What does that mean? You’re nothing if you’re not needed? Like the only reason someone likes you is because of what you can do for them?”
