Page 41 of No Limits

The rest of the experience is a bit of a haze, with all the adrenaline running through me. Prue comes back with champagne, and we happily toast and drink. Mom insists on buying the dress even though Lochlyn had planned to.

After we leave, Mom treats us to lunch and while we wait for our food, I send a quick text to Lochlyn.

Found a dress. It’s amazing. Can’t wait for you to see it <3

But instead of the immediate response I expect, it saysreadand stays that way. Maybe he’s at the gym and can’t answer. It’s what I want to believe.

But a tiny shred of doubt and worry snakes up my spine like a cool breath. He seemed excited this morning. Where did that go? Why does it feel like we’re falling back into the way things used to be instead of turning a corner?

Chapter 19

Asitturnsout,I was right. Despite my hang-ups and concerns, for a few weeks, it felt like maybe we had made a breakthrough. That things were moving in the right direction. He was making an effort to be around again.

And we were connecting. Things were on a track back to normalcy with laughter and snuggles and weekend mornings in bed.

My birthday was a big deal, as was his. We spent both together, no interruptions. He made me his priority on my day, making it all about me and nobody else.

It lasted almost two months before the first hiccup where Play It Louder had an issue at seven at night. But he was quick about it, returning home as soon as he could. There was no hanging out, no chilling with the band after, as he had done in the past. He made it clear he had to be home and was only gone for an hour or two.

While that was much appreciated, it didn’t change the fact that he was taking a work call after hours. Yes, some lawyers are available at night. But Lochlyn isn’t supposed to be one of them. It’s not part of his job description, he’s making it be.

That was three weeks ago, and things have been strained again. He’s back to late nights, long weekends, and being absent. The wedding is only getting closer and I can’t even think about that. I’ve had nightmares where he doesn’t show, and sometimes, it doesn’t feel that farfetched.

It’s two in the morning and I’m lying in bed while he snores next to me, having gotten home again from hanging out with Rolling Thunder. They got back earlier today from a New England tour and their first call was to Lochlyn for him to come hang out. He’d promised he’d be gone two hours, max.

Ten hours later, he rolled in and seemed drunk. Like the immature person I felt like being, I pretended to be asleep. He crashed within minutes.

I’m not looking forward to the morning, to tomorrow, when we have to hash it all out. My hope is to sleep until he leaves. He’ll be home after me, but I’ll have classes to distract me all day since spring semester is in full swing.

As sleep overtakes me, I try to chase out the worries about the wedding, telling myself that he’ll make it. That he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

***

The day zipped by in a flash and honestly faster than I wanted. Lochlyn was gone when I woke up and there was no indication he’d even been home. Part of me wondered if I imagined him even coming in last night until I made it to the kitchen and saw a plate in the sink.

I hate this feeling. This dread that’s overtaken my body when I think about going home and facing him. It should be the highlight of my day, getting home to my man. And instead, these days, it’s something that causes anxiety to bubble in my stomach and for my limbs to feel weighed down.

Shock coils through me when I get home from class, and Lochlyn is sitting in the kitchen. I’ve stopped checking the garage for his car since disappointment would fill my chest every time I found it empty.

He has a cup of coffee in front of him and bags under his eyes. His tie is loosened, top button undone, and his sport coat sits over the barstool next to him.

“Hi.”

His head snaps up at my voice, but he says nothing.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be home yet.” There’s a terseness to my voice that I’m sure he hears. The shock in it is something he can’t miss.

He turns his head from side to side before resting it on the counter. “I don’t have it in me to fight you tonight, Shay. I’m home. If that’s a problem for you, I can leave.”

“Why would that be a problem? It’s your house. You’re welcome to be here any time. I just wasn’t expecting you for a few more hours.”

“Can we not? Can we not harp on how little I’m present and how much I’m royally fucking up here? I mean, just right now, please. I’m begging you.”

“What do you want me to say, Lochlyn? You got home at one in the morning, probably drunk, because the band was back in town. That’s not a good enough reason for them to call you.” I shouldn’t have to go over this thought process again. He knows. We’ve had the discussions, more than once.

His head snaps up and fire burns in his irises. “What do you want from me, Shay? Huh?” Yelling. Lochlyn’s yelling. He's never used this tone or volume with me.

“I want you to be here.”

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