Page 84 of Trouble from Abroad
“It’s hard to say out loud,” I admit. “Harder to admit I buried all that so deep I didn’t even know it was rotting.”
“Is that why you haven’t told anyone you’ve been coming here?”
I lift a shoulder.
“Because April would cry. Callie would try to fix it. And?—”
I shake my head, jaw tight.
Beck tilts her head, eyes narrowing slightly.
“And?”
Of course she caught that slip. I let the question sit there and wonder if I’m ready to admit there’s someone new. Someone else whose opinion of me I care about.
“Has something changed recently?”
I wait until the truth settles in my chest. “I met someone,” I say finally.
She doesn’t write it down. Doesn’t blink. Just holds space for me.
“I wasn’t looking for anything,” I add quietly. “Didn’t want it. Really. But it happened anyway.”
My fingers press into my knee. I trace the seam of my jeans, needing something to do with my hands.
“It’s… different. It’s not comfortable. Or safe. At all. It doesn’t fit in my life, but?—”
I stop. Jaw clenched.
Beck gives a small nod, encouraging but quiet. “But it feels good?”
I nod back. Sharp. I’m afraid if I speak again, I’ll say too much. Jinx it.
“I don’t recognize this feeling,” I manage. “It’s not obligation. Or guilt. Or… routine. It’s something else entirely. It’s chosen,” I say, then stop to catch my breath. “It’s brought back my appetite. For life.”
“And that scares you,” she offers gently.
I huff a weird sound, something between a laugh and a groan. “It fuckingterrifiesme.” I stare at my shoes. “She makes me want to show up, Beck.” The words come out quiet. “Not just go through the motions. Not just be the dependable one. Actually show up. Asmyself.”
Beck shifts, her pompous smile peeking out while she scribbles something down.
“And you like that? You want that?”
My chin dips again. “I do. A lot. I never stopped toconsider that was an option, but she made me realize it is. It’s okay to be me.”
I sit back, heart thudding harder than it should. “I’m forty-three, and I don’t have a fucking clue what love is. Not real love. Not the kind you choose. Not the kind that sees you and stays.”
My voice drops.
“And this? This is so fucking new. So fucking dangerous.”
I press a hand to my chest, just for a second, trying to hold something in. Too late. I’m too far gone now.
“But I think I want her. God help me, I think I want her.” Maybe the reason it’s hitting me so fast is because I’d been empty for such a long time. I shake my head again, softer this time. “Fuck it. This isn’t leaving this room anyway.” I glance up. Meet Beck’s eyes. “I want her, Beck. Bad.”
Not out of penance. Not to fix a story. Because it’sher.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
