Page 22 of Last Love

“However-”

“Fuck me, there’s more to this shit?”

“However,” Law emphasizes on a scolding glare, “there are major drawbacks as well with the main one being that if they lose a battle with restraint, it severely increases the chances of you doing the same, which then turns this person you love from an ally to adversary in a sense.”

Yeah, I can see both sides.

The advantages and disadvantages.

What he can’t see is that I have no fucking interest in dating.

Anyone.

“Just like everything else, Collins, the choice of who you spend your time with is a choice. Your choice.”

“And I choose to spend most of my non-work time alone.”

“You don’t have any friends?”

“No.”

“What’s Kara?”

“A work in fucking progress.”

“Fair enough.” Law doesn’t bother hiding his laughter. “What about at work? You haven’t made any friends there?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“They wanna fucking drink when they get off, and I’d rather not be around that shit if I can help it. Fuck, my sister-in-law won’t even serve wine at our weekly dinners anymore because she’s trying to be supportive of the decision.”

He hums while nodding his understanding. “It’s good to not only see that you have boundaries but that you enforce them.”

Pride threatens to make me grin.

“What about McCoy? You live together, so you spend time together-”

“You’re a quick one, Law.”

“-but do you spend time together outside of the apartment?”

“No.”

“He offer?”

I begrudgingly answer. “Repeatedly.”

“Is he pushy?”

“Persuasive.”

“Just not persuasive enough,” Law offhandedly comments prior to smirking. “Recovery is all about change, Collins. Moving forward. Doing things differently than you have in the past-”

“I. Am.”

“You are, yet you aren’t.”

The glare he’s given is deadly.

“There is a vast fucking difference between existing and living, Collins. And you fucking know that. And you have spent a significant amount of time doing the former, therefore, it is time to explore the latter, otherwise, despite your new sober position, you really aren’t doing anything different. You aren’t corrupting a cycle that needs corrupting You aren’t gathering new materials to further build the second chance you’ve been given. You aren’t acquiring new ammunition to protect this opportunity that you continuously fight so hard to fucking have.”

Shifting uncomfortably in my seat is mindlessly done.

“Here’s your homework before our next face to face.”

It’s impossible not to sneer at the word homework.

Like who the fuck wants homework assignments this close to thirty.

“It’s nice and simple.”

Doubtful.

“The next time McCoy offers for you to do something with him and his friends or him and his girlfriend, go do it.”

He thinks that’s simple?

Ha.

The fuck it is.

No.

Nothing about that shit is simple.

Nothing about any of this shit is simple.

Even fucking peeing in a goddamn cup and letting them take my blood once a month isn’t simple. Having to figure out how to fast on a fuck early shift, get my ass across town to the private clinic, and back to work in thirty minutes or less like I’m fucking Dominos is not fucking simple!

And these fucking annoying and constant discussions about dating…

About having friends…

About fucking socializing…

None of these are easy, either.

Add in the nagging pressure to be more involved, to be more invested in my own life, to be more invested in other’s lives and the temptation to alleviate the pressure with the aid of little nicotine or a good bong hit increases exponentially.

But I can’t go back.

I’m not that person anymore.

I don’t wanna be that person anymore.

And if not being that person means figuring out how to have friends instead of just supply connections then so be it.

I can make this change.

I just have to treat the shit like everything else.

Take it one fucking step at a time.

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