Page 97 of Safety Net
I couldn't believe the slight hint of annoyance in his tone. "Sorry, it's been such a bother. But…you do remember you volunteered, right?"
Lincoln laughed dryly. "A bother? What's going on right now?"
"I'm trying to hold you accountable for something you promised you would do." I blinked so fast, my body oscillating between the need to cry and scream. "I don't think… that's too much to ask."
All this time, we'd kept a couple of feet between us. The distance felt like it stretched with every word we said. And those words started to become bricks on a wall.
"I think I should go." I tugged on my sleeves, giving my trembling hands something to hold onto.
"Now?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Right now?"
I nodded. "I should have left earlier. Nothing either of us says is going to change anything. I'm exhausted, you're drunk. A back-and-forth is pointless. I can't do this."
Lincoln blinked as a shadow of confusion crossed over his face. He studied me, trying to figure something out, but couldn't because the alcohol hindered him from coming to an understanding.
"Can't do this as in the party?" Lincoln asked. "Or as in us?"
I hadn't even considered us. Not consciously. But a small part of my brain had poked at the idea. We had considered our differences to be novel and never thought they could turn into roadblocks later.
"This is new and different," I said.
"Fun," he offered, almost hopeful.
I tried to smile. "Sure, sometimes."
"And other times?" His brows furrowed as he forced out the question I'm sure he didn't want to ask.
At other times, our relationship felt like a mirage. A fantasy of what could be if we had our lives figured out.
"Sometimes you party as if tomorrow doesn't matter. I…I thought you were going to be there. Like, really be there for me."
"Of course, I'm going to be there. This is just one bad conversation. One uncomfortable party. One long, uncomfortable night." Lincoln tried to laugh as he glanced behind us at the loud chaos of the house. "One delayed pick up."
"I'm not sure this will work all the time," I confessed and gestured behind him. "I'm not sure I want to be the personpulling you away when you could easily enjoy your night. The person waiting for you to remember a commitment. I'm not sure you want someone you have to keep an eye on. To constantly worry if I'm okay in a crowded room when that's the most natural thing for most people."
Surely he'd tire of running out of parties after me. I couldn't promise complete separation from anxiety. I couldn't stomach being the one gray cloud on his otherwise sunny days.
"I'm not worried. You're not pulling me away." His voice was firm, gaze unwavering. "You don't pull me anywhere, Celeste. I willingly followed you out here. I would follow you anywhere and everywhere, every single time. I can barely see straight, and I still followed you."
"I'm saying you don't have to follow me." If he continued, it could eventually ruin us. I could subsequently ruin us.
"I know I don't," he said. "Iwantto. That's the one commitment I won't ever break. I've proven that, no? When have I ever given you evidence otherwise?"
He hadn't directly. But in other aspects of his life, Lincoln clearly struggled to maintain his course. I'd been okay with that. I wanted to help him with that. But the decision to party when something so big and important to me loomed over us both gave me pause. I couldn't force him to change. I couldn't get him to take the right things seriously if he wasn't yet ready.
"Look, it's been a long day and an even longer night." I swallowed and brushed at my cheeks, swiping away unshed tears. "And…I really need some sleep. I need to be up tomorrow so I can figure out how to do a show without sets."
Lincoln pinched the bridge of his nose. "I told you, I'm going to handle it."
"No, I know." My anxiety was diluted with frustration. "But I've been quiet for days thinking you'd already done it. Those sets weren't mine to keep. My aunt has worked hard foreverything at the playhouse, and she's trusted me enough to handle things. And I trusted you enough to do what you said you were going to do."
Lincoln looked at me, expression unreadable. For the first time since I've known him, he was quiet. And remained so while I continued, "All I'm saying is maybe it's time to do what you say you want to do. Be responsible. Find some sort of balance. Stop treating everything like some game, especially when someone wants to trust you with something important and special to them."
There was nothing left for me to say. And for once, I didn't feel the need to endure the silence in hopes things will get better. In hopes I’d find a way to smooth everything over and make someone want to find merit and worth in my words. That was not, nor had ever been, my job.
I walked away. And Lincoln didn't follow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
