Page 51 of Written in the Charts

Sitting up, my head swam and the room spun. I realized I hadn’t even taken my shoes off, so I kicked them off and peeled my coat off, tossing it to the foot of my bed. The bathroom was the closest source of life-giving hydration, so I headed that direction, cramming my face beneath the faucet to slurp up as much of the cold liquid as I could. It made my stomach feel worse, but my head started feeling better almost immediately as I relieved my bladder.

Even when Misty had fucked me over, I hadn’t gotten that drunk and hungover. Maybe that was a sign that Gypsy meant more to me. Or maybe it was proof that I was hurting really badly from all the shit that piled up on the shit before it. My brain was a wasteland at this point. I needed something to break, some sort of good thing to happen that erased the months and months of bad shit that life had dealt me.

I washed my hands and brushed my teeth, then headed to the kitchen to see if I could hunt up some food. There was a huge mess. It appeared as if I had tried to make myself something to eat before crashing in bed, but the remnants of said meal were strewn about the kitchen haphazardly. It looked like I was trying to make spaghetti, but I had mayo and mustard out too, which made me chuckle. Drunk Evan seemed fun.

After cleaning up the mess and finding a slightly overripe banana to calm my stomach, I returned to my bedroom to search for my phone, which I ended up finding in my sock drawer. What I had been thinking, I had no clue, but at least I found it. It had been powered off. The moment I turned it on, it chimed. I had a few texts and missed calls, one of each from Gypsy. I wasn’t as angry as I had been last night, but the emotion was still there.

I opened her text and read it.

Gypsy 7:38 AM:Hey, I missed you last night. Not sure what happened. Call me. Let’s have lunch.

I sighed,slumping down onto the bed. I didn’t even bother listening to her voicemail. I just deleted it. I wasn’t sure what I even wanted anymore. I hadn’t seen any definitive proof that what she was doing in that office could be considered cheating, but it looked pretty damning. And she hadn’t returned my calls or texts for days.

I scrubbed my hand over my face, trying to think rationally. Gypsy knew me and she knew my history. She swore to never hurt me like that, but there she was, doing something that looked a lot like exactly what she’d promised not to do. I didn’t know what to believe, but if I’d learned anything in the past few months it was that I flew off the handle too easily.

Remorse over my stupidity sank in—or maybe it was the hangover just kicking my ass. I opened the message and responded.

Evan 10:51 AM:Sure. Lunch at 11:15 at Palio’s sounds good.

Not waitingfor a text in reply, I plugged my phone in to charge and hopped in a fast shower. I felt gross, having slept in my clothes and who knows how much anxiety sweat. The shower helped relax away some of my hangover, and the clean, dry clothes made me feel refreshed. I didn’t think I would confront her about my suspicion, though. I needed more evidence before I let her have it.

More than anything, my heart was heavy, feeling like I’d never find anyone trustworthy to love. It wasn’t rage or trauma. It was heartbreak. And it was something no amount of flying off the handle would fix.

I headed out, driving to the Italian restaurant to meet her for lunch. I got there before her and got a table. When she came in, I didn’t bother standing to greet her, which didn’t seem to faze her. She sat down across from me, smiling and babbling on about the day she had planned—shopping with Maggie for maternity clothes and a pregnancy massage later this afternoon.

“Are you okay?” Her head tilted to the side, eyes probing me.

“Fine.”

The waiter interrupted us, and for that I was grateful. I wasn’t very good at hiding my emotions when it was such an intense thing to cope with, but I tried. We ordered food and sent him on his way and she returned to her prying.

“Is it your knee? I can set up an appointment for the next injection, but it’ll have to be with Cameron.” Gypsy sipped her water and offered a sympathetic look. She called him by his first name? That was sort of personal, wasn’t it? Was I overreacting because of the suspicions I had? Did other employees call him by his first name?

“No, it’s okay. I’m doing them at the VA because it’s what’s been ordered by the major.” That was mostly a lie. I’d switched to PRP with Serah because it was easier to get in there. I didn’t have to drive all the way across town, and they didn’t have to worry about files being transferred. Also, I hadn’t wanted to see her when I went into the office.

Then the thought occurred to me that maybe she just didn’t want me there at the office, seeing her and Cameron together. Maybe that’s why she would schedule my appointments with him instead of her. She had tried to get me to switch to him for weeks, anyway.

“Oh, okay.” Her face fell, a deep frown crossing her features. She stopped prying, changing the subject to her schoolwork and studies. I was actually happy to hear that she was doing better with the chemistry class. I knew she struggled with that, but the happiness for her was short-lived when she mentioned how Dr. Marshal had been tutoring her after work.

That explained why she was at the office late every day—if it was the truth. It made sense to my logical mind, but my chest was still constricted. The emotion of seeing her laughing with him, her hair messy and his tie off... I didn’t know what to believe. Either she was an excellent liar or nothing was happening and I was just an idiot. I just didn’t believe the latter to be true.

“Do you want to come over tonight?”

Her simple question was like a kick in the gut. I picked my phone up and started scrolling. I loved her. I wanted to be with her, make love to her, hold her while she slept. But I didn’t want to have my heart torn out and trampled on, and that’s what I feared was happening. I couldn’t just ask her. If it were true, she’d just lie, and that would hurt even more. I had to bide my time and play my cards right.

“Nah, I have to be on base.” I lied again. I was no better than her. I had no plans. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not for two more days. I took leave to spend time with her this weekend, nearing her finals, hoping she’d have time for me or want me to help her study.

“Okay...” Her hurt expression made me wince, but I stared at my phone, wondering why I’d even come to lunch. I was uncomfortable and upset with her. I couldn’t say what was actually on my mind, and I couldn’t just leave. So I sat there and ate the food the waiter delivered to us in silence.

When the meal was over, I was ready to go. I’d come by mistake. I needed time to process what I was feeling. Bottling my emotions worked on the base because it was easy to distract myself from what was happening inside my brain by focusing on the external. Here in the real world, the only thing I had was what was happening in my brain.

“Are you okay? You seem down.” Gypsy touched my hand, and I moved it away, not hastily so she’d be offended, but casually.

I picked up my phone and flicked through the notifications. “I’m okay. Just have a lot on my mind.”

“I’m a good listener.” She pulled her hand back, and I stood, pulling my wallet out.

I dropped a few twenties on the table and put my wallet away. “I have to run.” I waved my phone at her. “I got a message that I’m needed on base.” Another lie, another wave of guilt. “I’ll call you.”

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