Page 3 of Safe With You

“You ever notice how every time I’m upset about something, suddenly I’m the problem for reacting to it?”

His jaw tightened slightly. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant. I just...” I rubbed my thumb against the steering wheel. “I don’t understand how you knew I was sitting out here, and you still weren’t in a hurry.”

“I was coming.”

“I know.”

“I texted you.”

“You did.”

“So what’s the issue?”

I turned to look at him again. “The issue is that you don’t think there is one.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything.

“Luna,” he sighed. “You know how things been lately.”

There it was.

Things.

That was always the explanation. Work. Stress. Pressure. Bad timing. His family. His schedule.

And for a long time, I’d understood. That was another reason I stayed. I knew what his job demanded from him, when things with his family got complicated, when money was tight, and when he was simply exhausted because life seemed determined to pile one thing on top of another.

I’d never wanted to be another thing Lucas had to manage, so I adjusted. Dinner became whenever you’re free. Phone calls became whenever you get a chance. Disappointment became it’s okay. Somewhere along the way, though, understanding him had started requiring me to ignore myself.

There was always some invisible thing standing between us and the relationship I kept convincing myself we were eventually going to have.

Eventually.

I had built an entire relationship around waiting for someday. Someday he’d be more available, communicate better, and stop making me feel like I was asking for too much simply because I wanted consistency. I’d spent years loving him through phases he never seemed to grow out of.

“You know what?” I muttered quietly. “Never mind.”

“Nah,” he said immediately. “Don’t do that either.”

“Do what?”

“Shut down instead of saying what you actually feel.”

I blinked at him in disbelief because the irony of that almost made me laugh.

“I’ve never expected you to be perfect, Lucas.”

“I know.”

“So why does it feel like asking you to show up on time is asking for too much?”

He looked at me, confusion written all over his face. “I’ve never said that.”

“No.” I swallowed. “You’ve just made me feel like it.”

For a second, neither of us spoke. Rain tapped steadily against the roof while headlights slid across the windshield in soft streaks.