It begins, a sludging, nauseating slide from my throat, past my heart, into the pit of my stomach. It’s our relationship, just falling out of my grasp. I could almost see it, the tips of my hands trying to catch it before it fell and smashed all over the floor.
“Come to Denmark with me.” I grab Fletcher’s hands, the idea taking flight in my chest.
We could travel together, he could see the art he’s always wanted to see. I could get the job done, and then we’ll come back. Together. As long as we were together, it didn’t matter. I could support the two of us with whatever I was making on this project.
And maybe this could help us get through the bad period we are in. Getting out of Fawn Hill, a change of scenery, it could do wonders for us.
“Ryan, I can’t leave Fawn Hill. I have the clock tower going up in a month’s time. My family is here. I have an apartment I work hard to afford, and … I love it here. This is where I belong.”
I swear, my heart shatters into a million tiny shards. The glass of the splintered organ breaks haphazardly, and I know it will never fully be pieced together after this.
“Is this because your boss is making you go, or do you want to leave after what you saw in my meeting?” His eyes narrow.
Immediately, anger bubbles up in the back of my throat. First, he’s saying he won’t come with me, and now, he’s accusing me of running away because AA spooked me into the next galaxy.
But this is my out, whether I’m being forced into it or not, and we both know it. I saw him in that meeting days ago, and I freaked the fuck out. But he also doesn’t want to come with me. And that causes me to go into self-preservation mode.
“You know what? I think this was all a really terrible idea. You’re right. I always jump into things, and this was no different. We felt the lust, we fucked, and then I got in deep because … well, like I said, it’s what I do. I should go, we’re on the verge of breaking up anyway.”
Fletcher looks as if I’ve sunk a knife right through his heart. “We are? Good to know your view on things. You never intended to stay here, did you? You can’t even look at me after that meeting, after learning what I really am. Just because one addict abandoned you, doesn’t mean another wouldn’t try to love you the hardest he could for the rest of your life. You’re right, you should go. Run away from your problems, like you always do. I don’t need this bullshit.”
“Fletcher …” My voice is pure panic, and tears leak from the corners of my eyes. The thoughts racing in my head are telling me to deflect, defend … but then they’re telling me to try with all my might to save this. To save us.
“Go, Ryan. Just go.”
I want to take it back, to tell him I didn’t mean any of what I’d just said. But it was out there now, as were his words. I’m not sure how this did a one-eighty in three seconds flat, but then again, I have a penchant for burning my life to the ground quickly.
And now I’d be on to a new city, a fresh start. That was the way things always went.
Except this time, I know I won’t be mending a broken heart.
I’d simply be limping along, trying to ignore the earthquake-sized tremors of an organ that would never repair itself.
37
Fletcher
Two weeks.
Fourteen days.
Three hundred and thirty-six hours.
That’s how long Ryan has been gone, and how long I’ve been numb to everything around me.
I stare up at the ceiling of Keaton’s guest room, because my brothers made me move in here after she left in fear I’d do something stupid. Truthfully, I’m glad they basically forced me into observational confinement. In those first few hours after she stormed out of my apartment, I was so close to hightailing it to the liquor store and guzzling a bottle of whiskey right there in the aisle.
But Keaton had come knocking, packed me a bag, and physically removed me from my apartment. I’d find out later that Ryan went running to Presley, who drove her to the airport and saw her off on the plane to New York, where she’d connect to Copenhagen.
The world seems dimmer without