As my body slowly starts to wake, I roll over onto my stomach before opening my eyes. The first thing I notice is the smell on the pillow—spicy with a hint of sweetness and undeniably male. My heart ricochets, and I lurch up, opening my eyes against the sleepiness that’s still cloaked around me.
I panic.
My eyes dart around, taking in the unfamiliar, messy room with guy’s clothing strewn about and start freaking out. Grabbing at the sheets to cover my half-naked body, I scream out as I kick my legs in a frenzy and fumble back against the headboard, terrified he’s still in the room with me.
Tears flood my eyes, blurring everything around me, and I can’t catch my breath.
The door flies open, and I gasp loudly before Micah comes into focus as he rushes toward me.
“What the fuck happened?” he nearly shouts.
In an instant, it hits me. I’m in Micah’s room in Miami. He took the couch so I could have the bed, and I feel like an idiot as I attempt to slow my breathing and calm my wildly beating heart, which just pumped excruciating amounts of fear into my bloodstream.
I pull the sheet that’s clutched in my hands away from me to see I’m fully clothed, and I choke back a painful swallow of relief while I gain my bearings.
“Are you okay?”
Micah sits next to me on the bed, and I quickly wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand, embarrassed by what he just witnessed.
“I’m sorry. Bad dream, I guess.”
The alarm in his eyes dissolves, and when I crack an uncomfortable smile to ease the tension, he exhales deeply. “Shit, Guppy, you scared the hell out of me.” He combs his hand through his long hair, which is in a mess of tangles, and chuckles. “I fell off the fucking couch.”
“I forgot where I was for a second when I woke up.”
“It’s cool.” He doesn’t seem overly concerned, and I’m relieved that he doesn’t linger too long. When he stands to walk out, he asks, “Coffee?”
“No. I’m good.”
He closes the door behind him, leaving me alone while traces of Liam still hang in the air I breathe. For a moment, I thought I was back in his frat room.
Tossing the covers off me, I try to clear the fog from my mind and check my phone. I only slept for two hours.
After digging through one of my suitcases and pulling out my toiletries, I drag myself into Micah’s en-suite bathroom. I take a fast shower and pull myself together as best as I can before I have to drive to the airport to pick up my mom.
The morning after I told her about school and moving, we drove over to Micah’s house so that she and his parents could discuss my moving in with their son. For obvious reasons, my mother had a lot of concerns, but when the details had been settled, I was much too eager to run away from Tampa. The following day, we cleared out my dorm room, packed the rest of my bedroom, and loaded everything into my car and Micah’s truck. That was it.
Since I was on the road sooner than my mother could take time off work, she is flying in to spend the weekend to help me set up my new room. Micah has been nice enough to give me his bed for the past couple of days, but I know he can’t enjoy camping out on the couch.
When I finally make it out to the living room, I find Micah sitting on the couch, eating a bowl of cereal.
“You hungry?”
I shake my head at his offer. My stomach is still in knots from earlier.
“I have to run by a buddy’s apartment to pick up his notes from one of the classes I missed. Want to come with me?”
I walk over and sit on the couch that’s across from Micah, who’s in the oversized chair. “My mom is flying in today. Remember?”
“When does she get in?”
“About an hour.”
He tilts the bowl to his mouth and slurps down the milk before setting it on the coffee table. Clearly, his mother purchased everything in here, all the furniture and décor. This condo is nothing what I would expect two college guys to be living in—it’s far too posh, but I’m not complaining. I’d live anywhere as long as it’s far away from Tampa and USF.
“I can tag along if you want,” he offers.
“Thanks, but I’m sure she’d like to spend some alone time with me. I can tell this move has been hard on her.”
I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t been hard on me, too. Even though I wanted it more than anything, the finality of what it means for Kason and me has been nearly impossible to digest.
I miss him.
I missed him even before I broke up with him. That has only gotten worse with my being here and him being there. I miss him more than ever. I try not to think about it. About what it was like for him to discover I had changed my number—that I moved away and completely disappeared on him. I fight not to let my mind go to those thoughts because of the anguish they come with.
Still, there isn’t a second that passes that I don’t endure the agony of the gaping hole in my heart where he used to be. I’m so empty without him, and if it weren’t for my mom coming into town, I’d still be hiding in Micah’s bed where I spent all day yesterday. Too terrified to face another day where my choices have left me miserable and lonely.
The front door swings open, and Trent strides in, wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts with his salty hair hanging in messy strands around his ears. “Morning, losers.”
“What’s in the bag?” Micah asks.
“Breakfast burritos.” Trent takes his surfboard out to the balcony and leans it against the wall before coming back in. He opens the white fast food sack and dumps a half dozen burritos onto the coffee table. “Surf was high, and I’m hungry as hell.”
Sand still clings to his feet, and he’s quick to sit next to me on the couch and start scarfing down his food.
He looks over his shoulder at me, and with a mouthful of sausage and egg, says, “Pardon my manners.” He makes a mockery of seriousness through his smart-alecky smirk. “You want one?”
“No thanks.”
He then turns to Micah. “You getting amped about next weekend?”
“Yeah. I really need to get my ass back in the water this week.”
“What’s next weekend?”
“Surf competition,” he responds. “You already forgot?”
I shake my head, but truth is, with everything going on, it totally slipped my mind.
“You’re coming, right? There’s really no reason not to at this point.”
“I don’t know.”
“Dude,” Trent exclaims, dropping his burrito. “Why the gray cloud?”
“Gray cloud?”
“Mopey as shit yesterday. Perk up, buttercup. You’re in Miami!”
I wish I could get lost in his oblivion, but I can’t. For Trent, nothing else matters aside from surfing, eating, and scoring his next chick. Although, he’s observant enough to see I’m behaving differently, he’s clueless as to the reasons why.
“You still hung up on Kase?”
Hearing his name spoken so easily needles into my inward bruises only I know the depths of. For me to utter his name takes every ounce of strength I have. If spoken, it would deplete me, knock me to my knees, and drown me in tears.
“Go easy on her, man,” Micah tells him as I stare between the two of them, unable to speak because I’m still trapped within the sound of his name.
When Trent looks back at me, he sees my unspoken plight, and his face softens. “Too soon?” he says gently, and I nod in response.
“I should get going.” I stand and grab my car keys before heading out.
“Ady, wait.” Micah follows me out, closing the door behind him and walking with me over to the elevators. “Are you okay?”
Again, with emotions residing just below the brim, I nod, but he doesn’t buy it.
“I can tell you aren’t.”
“Then why ask?”
He shrugs. “Because I’m a little worried.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine.”
“You can’t lie for shit, you know?” he says with a hint of lightness.
“I know.” Kason and I were together for way too long for me to simply be fine. “I just . . . I don’t really want to talk about it.” I drop my head for a moment, and when I return to him, I say, “If we don’t talk about it, then I won’t have a reason to lie to you.”
He nods in understanding, knowing how entwined Kason and I were when we were together. “Deal.”
The elevator’s doors finally open.
“Call if you need my truck today. I’ll be around.”
I shoot him a smile before stepping inside. The doors shut, and the elevator takes me down to the parking garage of the high-rise condo tower. I slip into my car and follow my navigation through the traffic of this city, and the moment I see my mother, I feel a weird sense of relief. Maybe it’s because she’s the only one I have no reason to lie to at this point. She knows. Without my having to speak the words, she knew. So if I’m down or teary, I know with her, I’m safe.
I pull up to the curb and jump out of the car.
“Hi, Mom.”
Her arms are around me in an instant. This has to be so terribly hard on her. It’s so much worse than when I left home the first time. Then, I was only thirty minutes away. I was still whole. Now, I’m across the state and broken . . . lost.
We load her suitcase into the trunk, and when we start driving, I can sense my mom wants to discuss a thousand things, but she refrains. Instead, we spend the next couple of hours scouring a furniture store. We select a new bed, nightstands, and a dresser. Luckily, the store had a couple of delivery cancellations and they are able to squeeze us in on the schedule for tomorrow.
Now, that all the big pieces have been purchased, we decide to hit up a few home décor places, but not before we grab a late lunch. Foreigners to this city, we fumble through the traffic before landing our eyes on a place called Peacock Garden Bistro.
“That looks good. Pull in.”
“You haven’t even seen the menu, Mom. How can you say it looks good?” I turn the wheel and pull in to find a parking spot.
“It has ‘garden bistro’ in the name. That’s always a safe bet for delicious salads.”
I shake my head, but I’m so unbelievably thankful for this day filled with distractions. And she’s right. This restaurant is perfect. We’re seated and then place our order of iced teas and salads.
When the food is delivered, my mother releases a pleasing sigh before taking her first bite. I, on the other hand, am slow to start, still struggling with my appetite. On the rare occasions that I do find myself hungry enough to eat, it seems to shock my system and makes me sick to my stomach.
Using my fork, I push the food around, taking tiny bites here and there.
“What’s the matter, dear? Not hungry?”
“Not really,” I mumble softly.
She stops eating and wipes her mouth with her napkin before reaching across the table and resting her hand atop mine. I drop the fork and look at her.
There’s the pity I’ve been trying to avoid.
“I wish I knew what to do,” she says quietly, her lips tensing under the pressure of sadness, and I have to bite my cheek to keep my own under control. “I feel like we’ve just been walking around this ginormous elephant all day when there are a million things I want to talk about.”
“What’s there to even say?”
“Ady . . .”
“Honestly, Mom. It is what it is and there’s no changing that.”
With softening eyes, she tilts her head. “And what about Kason?”
His name burns the much too tender tissue of my heart, causing my chest to seize slightly.
“He stopped by the house yesterday. To say he was destroyed would be putting it mildly.”
“I can’t hear this right now.”
“Ady, he loves you. I mean, I always knew he did, but seeing how broken he is . . . I guess I never knew just how deep that love went.” I pull my hand from under hers, needing to put a little space between us as she continues, “You vanished on him.”
The weight of my actions press down on me, and I’m quick to blink back my tears. I can’t imagine how lost and helpless he feels right now, but as much as this hurts him, I know deep down that the alternative would be even worse. There’s no getting out from under this unscathed.
“Maybe if you just called him . . .”
I shake my head. “I can’t.” My voice cracks, exposing my deep-rooted pain. “You have to trust me. It’s better this way.”
“I don’t believe that, Ady. Not after what I saw yesterday.”
“You don’t understand. You don’t know the life he’s lived or how bad it’s been for him.” I choke up, having to take a moment to swallow the pain back. “I’m not doing this to hurt him. I love him. It’s just that I can’t put this on him. I care about him too much to do that to him.”
“That boy would fight for you, there’s no doubt in me.”
“But that’s just it. I can’t have him fighting for me when he’s fighting for himself every day,” I press. I don’t expect her to understand, though. His daily battle is a secret he trusted me with. But it isn’t just his craving that torments him—it’s everything else, too. It’s his mother, who is slowing slipping away with her liver failure, it’s the lingering memories that haunt him from years of sexual abuse, it’s the monumental stress of trying to create a better life for himself. It’s all these things and even more that assure me I’m doing the right thing. And on top of all that, it would be destroying everything he loves about me. It would be throwing the truth in his face that I’m no longer the good, wholesome girl that he was so proud to call his. I know that, in some psychological way, being with someone like me made him feel less dirty.
My mother will never understand the depths of Kason and me. She doesn’t have to, either. I know that, with how much she cares for him, she will continue to fight for him. So, I do what I can to shut her down so that I don’t have to continue biting the stake of this choice I’ve made.
“I don’t expect you to understand any of this,” I tell her. “But this isn’t just hard on Kason.” A tear abandons me, dripping slowly down my face.
God, his name still tastes so sweet.
She stands and moves to sit next to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.
“I wanted him for forever.” I wipe another tear.
“I know you did.”
“And I never wanted to be in this position. I never wanted any of this. But I won’t ever be able to move on if it’s constantly being thrown in my face.”
“Sweetheart, I’m not trying to throw anything in your face. I’m just worried . . . I’m worried about the both of you.”
“I’m worried about him, too. But I can’t continue to hear his name or be reminded about how badly he’s hurting. I’m already drowning in enough pain.”
“Tell me what I can do to help,” she begs on a whisper.
“Like I said before, just take care of him. He needs you. He won’t ever admit to it, but he needs someone watching over him.”
“Already done,” she affirms, and I trust that she will continue to be there for him and support him. “What about you? What can I do for you?”
It kills me to say what I’m about to say, and, yet again, I make one last wish to God to make this all go away. I wait as my eyes fill with absolute heartbreak, but I know there’s no saving me from this. Taking a hard swallow, I tell her, “Don’t talk about him anymore.” Her hold on me strengthens, and I feel myself shaking against her. “Love him and care for him, but I can’t be a part of that. Don’t mention him, talk about him, say his name . . . no matter what. Just keep him to yourself, okay?”
“Are you sure?”
I nod, unable to say anything else.
Dropping my head onto her shoulder, I sit in the boundless agony of this situation for a few minutes until we are both able to regain our bearings. We straighten ourselves, both dabbing our eyes with our napkins, and when she speaks next, I’m reminded of how lucky I am to have her.
“While I was waiting for my flight, I searched the internet and found a darling home décor store that isn’t too far from the condo. What do you say we go there next?”
I smile at the woman I am so grateful for, and even though I need what she just gave me—a swift redirection away from the catastrophe that has become my life, I remain in it one more second to give her my heartfelt, “I love you . . . so much. Thank you.”
She smiles endearingly. “You’re my favorite. I’ll do anything for you, and don’t ever forget that. No matter what, I’m on your side forever.”