Page 91 of Last Love

That’s no matter what happened, the tiniest part of me could not give up the notion of finding her.

“Xander needed to know why we didn’t work. Why we can’t work. Why we would never be able to make it work. He deserved that much from me.” Her chin tips up a little higher. “And I deserve to know the absolutely fucking truth about what I saw this morning.”

Another wave of vibrations forces me to pull the device out of my pocket to silence it. The sight of Law’s scowling photo should have me swiping to answer; however, whatever it is he has to say I know can wait.

He’s my sponsor.

I’m not his.

Her arms fold defensively across her chest. “Who was that on your couch, Ry?”

“Kara.”

“And did you fuck Kara?”

The craving for something to soothe sadness that the accusation brings spikes to the point I have to shut my eyes.

Focus on breathing in.

Out.

Control the urge to reach for a chemical aid to keep the rattled demon in the darkness where it belongs.

When I finally feel like I have some sort of grip on my reality once more, I paste my eyes on hers and reply, “No, Pres. I didn’t fuck her.”

“You sure?” she huffs in outrage. “You took an awfully fucking long time to answer.”

“Because I fucking hate that you asked me that.” Her mouth drops to which I lift a hand to hush her. “That you felt you had to ask me that.”

A grim glow begins in her gaze.

“Kara’s a friend; however, if the choice is between a friendship with her and a forever with you, I’m picking you each and every time, baby.”

Pres’s shoulder suddenly lower.

“I’ll fucking delete her number right goddamn now if that’s what you want.”

“I wanna know who she is,” my girlfriend quietly croaks. “Why she was at your apartment. Why she was fucking naked. Why I didn’t even know she exist!”

“Kara and I met in rehab.” Ignoring Law’s face on the screen continues. “She was the only person I actually spoke to besides Doc. And when I left, I didn’t give her a second thought. It wasn’t until we ran into each other at a support group that a friendship kinda started. Mainly texts. Rambles. Eventually, we started hanging out here and there. She needs me a lot more than I need her.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I have a support system. Shelly. Noah. Law. McCoy. You.”

Her arms finally loosen.

“And she has me. That’s why when she called me last night when someone spiked her fucking drink.”

The tiny gasp out of Pres is expected.

“I left from seeing my father-”

“Wait. You actually decided to go?! Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!”

“I was gonna tell you last night when it was over, but then I went to get her and she was making all these weird sounds in my car, which is why I didn’t fucking answer. And then when I got her to my apartment, I called Law for advice. He basically gave me signs to watch – after I refused to take her to hospital – and that’s what I did all night. I watched to make sure my friend didn’t fucking die on my couch.”  Giving my exhausted face a scrub, I add, “I wasn’t around when she got naked. I found that shit out this morning, too. I crashed in my own bed for a couple hours to try to get some sort of sleep before I was supposed to go in today. Chances are whatever she accidentally took had her temp spike or feel like it was spiking, and she ditched her clothes. I didn’t see her naked at any fucking point.”

Worry seems to somewhat shift out of her expression prompting me to force myself to go grimmer.

Grittier.

“And the reason I didn’t tell you about Kara or that I’m having trouble filling out these stupid school forms or that I fucking sprained my goddamn toe at the gym last week is because I’m fucking embarrassed.”

The revelation sags her shoulders. “What?”

“You have no fucking idea what it’s like to look someone in the face who’s damn near perfect and have to question what the fuck could they ever see in a person like you?” I lean over and hit the ignore button to Law’s call. “You have no fucking idea what it’s like to lay in bed at night and wonder what could they ever want let alone fucking need from someone like you?”

“Ry-”

“I have had to fight tooth and fucking nail for a place in your life. To cook for you. To wash your fucking car. To meet your fucking best friend.”

“Ry-”

“You have your shit together, Pres. You’ve…had…your shit together for years! Well, I don’t! This shit is all fucking new to me, and I’m doing the best I fucking can. And sometimes realizing that I’m fucking up or have fucked up or that I’ll never be more than a fuck up gets the better of me, and I try to hide that shit from you because the last fucking thing I need is to give you another excuse to walk away from me – from us – again.” Sniffling away the tears I didn’t even realize arrived is swiftly done. “But fuck it. I’m done trying to have any fucking pride here. You wanna know something, fucking ask. Anything, and I’ll tell you. Even if it means you start looking at me like the walking disappointment I pretend not to be.”

“You are not a disappointment,” my girlfriend quietly argues, body inching towards mine. “I’m disappointed that you feel like I’m judging you instead of loving you.”

There’s no stopping my head from falling forward.

“I don’t give a shit how imperfect you are, Ry! We’re all imperfect! We’re all out here trying our fucking best, and if that looks a little different for you than it does for me, oh the fuck well!”

Darting my stare back up to hers is instantly done.

“Stop giving me half-ass versions of yourself because you don’t think I can handle all of you! You did that shit to me back then, you will not fucking do it to me now!”

“Have all of me then!”

She steps closer at the challenge. “How many times did you wanna smoke today?”

“I stopped counting after twenty-two.”

“What drug do you miss the most?”

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