Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Yes.” My voice sounds like someone dumped a spoonful of sand in my coffee. “But loving her was never the problem.” I sit back, almost winded.
“You need to make this right, brother. You’ve been running, escaping for so long you think that’s what you are. But you’re wrong. And she knows it.”
I stand, preparing to get the fuck away.
“You can’t do this anymore. I won’t let you.” Reed’s voice stops me as I turn.
“Don’t you get it? I can’t forgive myself. What I did was…” I look up at the blue, cloudless sky. “It was something that I handled wrong.”
“Why? Because you left to get help?”
“Yes. I fucking wasn’t strong enough for her.” I take a deep breath. “Just like I failed my child and on and on.” I run my hand through my hair. Reed showing up is fucking with me, and his calmness is making it worse. He’s never calm unless he has a plan.
“She loves you. She’s way stronger than you give her credit for. And even though you fucking ripped her heart out… she truly wants you to be happy.”
“What?” I look around wanting to leave. But my legs won’t move. I crave anything about her. The desperate need to hear her name makes me almost sick to my stomach.
“She knows you got help.”
I stare blankly at him not sure what or how I feel about this. “Is she… has she moved on?”
“No, she’s in love with a stupid fuck who thinks he deserves nothing but misery.”
This makes me lean my hands on the table so Reed can hear me clearly. “She deserves the world. I left because of that. Do you not think that every second of every day I don’t think about her? Worry about her? Want to go back to her? I’m trying to get well so that I can be the man she needs.” I hiss this out into his expressionless face. “Fuck, it’s why I left her in the first place. I was killing her, making her into someone she was not.”
He pushes his chair out and stands up. “If I can do it, you can do it too.” His green eyes bore into me. He’s not fucking around. “Go back and figure out what you want. Tell her exactly that. If it’s not meant to be, at least you faced it. I know you can live with that. But hiding out… well, one day you’re going to wake up and eat a bullet.”
I let out a harsh breath as I listen to him, but I can’t possibly believe it.
“You belong with her. And you deserve to be happy. Don’t wait until it’s too late.”
He starts to leave and I turn and watch him pull out his phone. Glancing back at me, he says, “Nothing worthwhile is ever easy, brother. But you love her. You always have.”
A black SUV pulls up and a driver gets out to open the door for him. “Let me know when you land in Los Angeles. I’ll pick you up.”
Before I can respond, he shuts the door and the black vehicle is gone as if I dreamed it. I look at his empty seat and half-full cup of coffee to make sure I’m not going insane.
“Senor? Can I get you anything else?” The waiter hands me the check and I blink at him.
“No, thank you.” He smiles and says over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow, amigo.”
I scan my surroundings. Seville is incredible in a way that can only be described as magical. But it’s not home. Nothing is home.
Charlie, she was the closest I ever came to having that feeling. So, instead of saying, “See you tomorrow,” I reach down for my backpack and say nothing, not even goodbye.
Reed’s right. He’s always right. I need to go back. I need to face all that I did. I need to finally atone.
DAVID/POET
I stand in a long and winding LAX customs line. I could take a two-hour nap and maybe move three feet.
I need coffee, a shower, and a bed.
Behind me, there’s nothing but a line of people whose faces mirror mine.
I pull out my phone to text Reed. He’s picking me up.
Months have passed and I haven’t seen her, smelled her, fucked her.
I destroyed us. I know all this and yet I’m back anyway. Reed was right. I’m going to wake up one day and end it all if I don’t own my shit.
Memories of what happened that day buzz in my head, joining forces with my demons.
But for reasons I can’t understand, I checked myself into a thirty-day stay at a Malibu rehab. Since I’d already detoxed, I spent most of the time in grief counseling and in a recovery group where I finally dealt with the pain and fear about what happened with Tabatha.
My pain about Charlie was another story. I was honest about my fear of commitment and all my other issues. I’m working on them every day, not that it seems to matter. There’s a void, a blackness inside me that only her light can fill.