Nash Brothers Box Set - Carrie Aarons Page 0,309

in Greece, on the arm of an artist, it was whimsical. We were together for a year and a half before I found him in our bed, having a threesome with two local models. The truth is … I knew it was happening. Somewhere deep inside your soul, you always do. It’s hard not to know if your partner is distant, or not as touchy-feely. We all ignore it, chalk it up to long-term companionship … but I knew. I just didn’t want to see it.”

Fletcher doesn’t reach for my hand, but instead, keeps his steady gaze pinned on me. He doesn’t interrupt either … and maybe he knows I need to spit this out more than I realize.

“That’s what I do. I fall into relationships so quickly because I want … hell, I’m not sure sometimes. Love? Someone to be singularly focused on me. A person to call my own? Remember I told you I grew up in foster care?”

The brief register of sympathy on his face tells me that he feels sad for me, but he schools his features and nods his head, urging me to go on.

“My mother abandoned me at a supermarket when I was five. Just walked me in, took me to the cereal aisle, and went to go score. She was, and still is, a junkie. I stared at the Lucky Charms box so long, I thought my eyes were becoming kaleidoscopes. It wasn’t until the store was closing for the night that one of the employees found me, called the cops to come and get me. I floated in and out of the system from then on. Going into foster homes, some okay and some worse. Nothing absolutely horrible ever happened to me. No, the scars that remain are from something much worse … complete isolation. Most times, I was just ignored. No one spoke to me or listened. I made no friends because I moved around from home to home so much, and there was not one person in my life who was a constant fixture.”

His fingers thread through mine. “I … didn’t know it was that bad.”

Shaking my head, I look away, another wave of nausea hitting me. “No one really does. Presley knows, but she’s probably one of the only ones. I … don’t like to talk about it. Don’t like to dwell on it because I should be so grateful for the life I’ve created for myself. How can this woman, who doesn’t give a shit about me, still take up such a big portion of my headspace? It’s crazy.”

Unshed tears form a lump in my throat. “I’m so ashamed of how I acted last night. I lashed out at you because you pushed me away, just like she did, while dealing with your own demons. Demons that she has. It’s all a twisted mess, and rationally, it shouldn’t matter. But emotions never listen to silly little things like that, do they? I’m so sorry, Fletcher. I’m fucked up.”

I breakdown into sobs, because I feel like last night veered us so off course. I’m not a crier, I rarely ever do … but this has been coming. Something had to come to a head, and even if the events of last night seem like a molehill, they were part of the larger mountain. Fletcher’s reaction set off a tsunami.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He holds me until the tears dry up, but after they’re gone, I can feel the tide has shifted.

35

Fletcher

There is a void.

Ever since the morning Ryan told me about her mother, about why she freaked out when I slept on the couch, there has been this distance between us that neither of us can seem to bridge.

We’re not talking about it, either, which only makes it worse. I’m not sure if she’s more upset about her own reaction, or if she’s slowly realizing what a life with me would actually look like.

I don’t have free rein to indulge my every whim, which in turn means neither does my partner. My personality, the addict switch in my brain, can’t handle it. I can’t even smell alcohol in my apartment, and I’m not sure Ryan ever thought about that before the other night.

The only way I can think to explain it to her, and maybe end this awkward tension between us, is to take her to a meeting.

“I don’t need to come, really. If this is your space …”

It’s the second time Ryan has said