Page 174 of Lost Track

“He knows, logically, that there are finish lines out there. But Dave can’t see past tomorrow. And yet, it’s all eternity to him.”

Something heavy shifted in her chest as those words slid into place.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Max turned his face to her again. “When he tells you he loves you, he loves you in this moment, yes. But for him those moments never end. He loves you, no stop. It’s continuous. Like gravity.”

Her heart hammered helplessly in her chest.

“How do I fix this?” she asked.

Max gave her a sad smile. “I wish I had the answer. But we’re in new territory with you.” He chewed on his bottom lip, gaze growing distant. “I really didn’t think he’d catch us. Fuck, I’m stupid. He’s never had someone like you. The other women, when he was done, he was done. Just closed the door on the relationship and moved on.”

Sabine caught a sob in her chest and pressed her fist to her mouth. The idea of Dave walking away from her—from them—was too heartbreaking to process.

“I love him so much,” she whispered, not trusting her voice to work. “I’ll fix it.”

She wiped her hands on her skirt and breathed deeply. She drove Max to the airport, her mind swirling with how to apologize so that Dave knew she was sorry. But mostly she just wanted him to know that he was amazing.

Max exhaled and unclipped his seat belt as she swung into the terminal’s curb and stopped. “I’ll call him when I land and explain what happened. I’ll tell him it was my fault.”

“Max, if you talk to him before I do, tell him I love him and I’m sorry.”

Max held her eyes for a moment. Then he got out of the car, got his bag, gave her a nod, and disappeared into the airport.

Sabine cried all the way home.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

AS I AM

DAVE

It was snowing.

It had started snowing right after she’d left.

Dave had stared out the window watching the fluffy white flakes swirl in between the buildings before making their way to the street below.

And with the arrival of the snow came the cold, empty feeling of guilt.

For as long as he could remember, his emotions had always feltbigger.He had no way of comparing them to someone else except to witness how others behaved.

He cried easier, got angry faster, laughed louder and longer.

His emotions seemed correct in the moment, but they also feltveryintense. Sometimes overwhelming.

His medications helped him regulate those things for the most part.

But every once in a while, he’d get knocked on his ass.

Intense contrition smothered his other senses until he crumpled under the weight of it. He lay down on the floor of the living room and stared up at the ceiling. His hands rested on his stomach and he listened to the silence of his life.

He’d made her leave.

Told her to go.

Because he didn’t want to hear all the reasons for why.

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