Chapter 33
Dylon
M y mother is lying about why she’s here. The size of her suitcase is a noticeable clue.
Seriously, if she’s in my everyday life for a month, I won’t have to worry about my sobriety because I’ll be in jail for murdering her.
Her behavior is typical, self-absorbed and constantly playing the victim. We moved to Detroit when I was twelve, and I didn’t argue over why we had to move. But my dad got caught drinking on the job and couldn’t find work. A tabloid dug into my past and claimed my parents skipped out on their rent when we left Grand Rapids. It’s the one time I believed the trash they print.
She stalks into the living room, clutching the wine as if I’ll change my mind if she gives me a minute to think about it. I’m sure she needs a drink. Rehab opened my eyes to functioning addicts. My family is full of them.
I scroll my hotel apps and find a reasonable one with a free breakfast. She can’t stay at a hotel with too many amenities, or she’ll charge services to her room—like a four hundred dollar facial.
“All set. I’ll wait with you in the lobby.” I wheel her suitcase into the hall, expecting her to follow.
She huffs, shooting Lars a murderous look.
“Your son deserves better than you. One day, you will regret treating him so poorly,” Lars says quietly, stringing together more words than the last couple of days combined. Even as sick as he is, Lars is my ultimate ride-or-die. Hopefully forever.
My mother ignores him and storms past me.
I wonder if my dad kicked her out or what happened, but I don’t care. Spending the better part of my life trying to please her with zero success cured me.
By the time I get back upstairs, Lars is watching hockey highlights. His sympathetic eyes find mine, but I feel the wall between us as a physical thing.
“You didn’t have to ask her to leave because of me, but I am proud of you for standing up to your mother.”
“I didn’t do it for you. It’s for me. I’m not letting her ruin over a year of sobriety.” My hair falls in my eyes, and I scan the room for my hat to keep it out of my face.
“I need to hear you say it again… How long have you been sober?” His entire body’s strung tight, muscles tensed and veins popping in his neck.
Holding my head high, I lock eyes with him. “I’ve been sober for one year and sixteen days.”
Lars collapses his forehead on the island, and his arms wrap around his head. “I thought…” He can’t finish his sentence.
“I made a lot of mistakes, but I swear to you, I didn’t relapse.” My heart contracts with the hell I put him through. “I’ve been selfish and unintentionally cruel to you. I’m afraid of becoming my mother.”
“Do not do that.” The fierceness in his eyes startles me when he lifts his head to meet my gaze. “I assume she has been using guilt to bully you for your entire life. At least as long as I have known you. It is difficult to stand up to a parent and break that cycle. It’s admirable.”
His words and the sentiment behind them hit my chest, freezing the air in my lungs. There’s a huge part of me that wants to argue with him but also melt because he sees the struggle and validates my actions. I’m sure my family will take her side and harass me. My sister knows my parents lie but pretends it’s normal and thinks we should stand by them.
“Shoulda kicked her out years ago,” I admit, and my voice cracks .
Standing by my mother will compromise my sobriety and subsequently my career. I can’t give her that kind of control.
“I finally realized it will never be enough for her. She will never have the life I’ve earned. Nothing I can give her will satisfy her. If she somehow achieved my level of success, she could never sustain it. She’s not dedicated, or a hard worker, or kind to people. She’d be an internet train wreck.” I step around the island, close enough to engulf myself in his body heat.
“It must be difficult to understand that about your mom.” His fingers splay out on my forearm, and my body sings.
“The subconscious part of my brain has known for years and years, but it sucks knowing the truth. You’ve helped me see things clearly. Your actions, more than your words, show me what support means. Lars, you brought me into your home and changed your life for me. You declared our living space dry and abstain in solidarity with me. My family couldn’t do that for a day. The thought of her in my daily life makes me ill.” I stare at the ceiling, reflecting on my turmoil.
“It is what you do when you care for someone,” he says nonchalantly, leading me to the couch and slouching against the arm.
“It isn’t. Most people don’t. You’re extraordinary.” The truth slices my hard-fought self-confidence. “It hurts knowing my family can’t make sacrifices for me.”
“I am sorry they cannot support you. You deserve better.” Lars’s sentiment rings true. Unfortunately, he’s not done speaking. “But I think you know there are things we have to talk about.”
There’re an astronomical number of things Lars needs to hear, and the night I spent in the hotel with the bottle of Maker’s Mark seems like a month ago. I’m not sure where to start.
Lars inhales and my heart falls to my stomach. “You said you were going to meet with your sponsor, but that was not true. What were you hiding?”
I swallow hard and decide I have to be brutally honest. “At the Halloween party, I had a visceral urge to drink and thought I would give in. I was sure you knew. I needed to clear my head and went for a walk. You assumed I went to see my sponsor, and I didn’t correct you. I planned to tell you when I got back, but I overheard you talking to your therapist.” I’m breathing hard, but I have to continue.
“You were afraid to upset me.” If I were a swan, I’d be flapping my wings and swimming erratically, but as a human, there’s sweat on my brow. “I was… am afraid of what you need to tell me. I panicked and wasn’t ready to hear it.”
“So you disappeared because I want to tell you about my past and how I feel about you?” Lars’s words are slow, trying to piece together what I’m not saying.
But now I’m confused. “Your past? What does that have to do with me?”
We speak simultaneously. “What did you think I was going to say?” he asks, and I continue, “What were you afraid of?”
We stare warily at each other. Even if we end tonight, he should have all the facts to make that decision.
“I thought you were going to ask me to move out or tell me you didn’t want a relationship with me because my addiction is too much to handle.” It sounds foolish, but the underlying fear still exists that if I’m not actively doing something for him, he’ll decide I’m not worth the trouble.
They’re my mother’s words, always telling me I wasn’t worth the trouble. I thought all parents talked to their kids like that until I stayed with other families. Even though I know better, it’s hard to break ingrained inadequacy. It’s why I pushed myself too hard with my shoulder injury and caused myself added pain. Proving my worth is my default.
“No,” he says simply, and the word explodes in my brain.
“No?” I whisper, finally looking at him
“I have lots of things to say, but I have to know why you stayed out all night.”
All my thoughts jumble, fighting to get out. “I was so singularly focused on proving myself strong enough for you that I disregarded the impact it would have on you. Making sure I wouldn’t drag you down with me was my priority. Instead of being honest and accountable, I snuck off.
“Dumbly, I thought I could hide my failure if necessary. The first thing I learned in recovery is admitting powerlessness and accepting help. But my pride got in the way. I needed irrefutable evidence I can stay sober and you can…” I almost say “love me” but that’s getting ahead of myself.
“You do not need to prove anything to me.” He takes my hand in his, and I inch closer on the cushion. “I am the dependent one. I lost my mind when you were gone and would have called the police to find you, but Patrik, Finn, and Trevor stopped me. I imagined all the terrible things that could have happened. In the history of our friendship, you have never cut me off. You hurt me when you left, and I do not understand.”
“I’m sorry.” My gut churns. “I went to a dark place, thinking you couldn’t trust my sobriety or worse, thought I was incapable of being a good partner. Saying I handled it badly is an understatement. I should’ve let you know what I was doing, but I was afraid you would stop me.” Everything I did sounds so stupid, and I haven’t even gotten to the worst part.
“I never doubted you until you lied to me. What did you do?” The storm clouds in his eyes speed up my heart.
“I bought a bottle of whiskey, poured a glass, and sat next to it all night,” I say in a rush, and he jumps up, paces around the living room, and collapses back onto the couch. “It was a test.”
Lars’s face is slack with horror while his body does its best not to recoil from me. I’m fucking this up.
“I’ve had cravings, but it’s been fairly easy to resist because there’s nothing of substance in our house and I have you. But you can’t be with me all the time, and I can’t allow you to be my security blanket. Not if we’re going to be in a relationship. I have to stand on my own.” Every cell in my body reaches for him, but I keep the distance between us.
“Why didn’t you talk to me about it? That’s what partners do. I worry when the man,” he pauses, “I care about is suffering in silence and disappears to handle things alone.” He’s measuring his words, and I wish he’d unleash the messy thoughts in his brain on me.
“That sounds logical and reasonable,” I admit. “And I don’t have an excuse. I fell back on old patterns. Growing up, weaknesses were used as weapons in my house. I felt I had to prove I was strong before we made a commitment to each other. I know we’ve said things in the heat of sex, and I won’t hold you to them.” To be a better partner, I’m going to have to listen and understand. Understanding is my Achilles heel right now.
“You think I am not committed to you and said things I don’t mean?” he cuts in.
“No.” I choose my words carefully. “Not that you purposely said things you don’t mean, but it’s easy to let the endorphins override our thoughts.”
“I have never said anything to you I do not mean. Not as a friend, a teammate, or a lover. Never.” The storm clouds surge in his eyes as if they’re capable of sweeping me away.
“Okay,” I say lamely, trying to catalog every word I dismissed as too good to be true and bring them back to me. To give me the courage to say what’s in my heart.
To surrender even if he rejects me.
Lars sputters a bunch of Swedish words.
“That doesn’t sound like dirty talk.” My voice breaks instead of sounding breezy.
“Fine. In English.” He steels his spine. “You are a goddamn idiot. I have done everything in my power to show you with my actions and my words, but you do not see it. I have done my best not to overwhelm you with my feelings, but you still ran away. I chose you, and you chose to push me away.”
As he speaks, I formulate responses, but I’m stuck on him choosing me. He chose me? My mouth asks a different question. “I’m an idiot?” It’s not that I don’t agree, but I’d like some clarification.
Lars sighs and stifles a yawn. “I told my therapist my feelings for you are so strong and I’m afraid of repeating past mistakes. I worry about my ability to recover if I lose you, and playing hockey would be impossible.” His eyes droop closed. This is more activity and talking than he’s had in almost a week.
“You won’t lose me,” I promise.
“You cannot promise that. The world is cruel and terrible things happen. Some we bring upon ourselves, but many are out of our control. And you ran away from me as soon as you had doubts. How do I know you will not do it again?” he asks, opening his cloudy blue eyes .
“You’re right, but I will not willingly walk away. Where does this leave us?” I’m terrified of his answer.
“Your lie devastated me, but you’re right, it was a lie of omission, not blatant. I can forgive you, but it cannot happen again.” His tone softens. “I am impressed by your strength and resilience in overcoming a dysfunctional family and addiction. You’re an inspiration.” He holds up his hand when I try to speak.
“I carried the weight of secrets for too long, and the guilt consumed me. Secrets and partial truths cannot continue, and I won’t tolerate them.” Despite his words, Lars reaches for me, and I embrace him, breathing a sigh of relief. “I want you and will not give up, but promise you will talk to me when you are having doubts or a problem.”
“I acted like a total asshole, selfish and self-absorbed. I knew running from you and testing myself wasn’t right, and I doubled down on my bad decisions instead of apologizing. My brain went into flight mode, and I let my negative thoughts hijack me rather than man up and face you,” I say, and his understanding expression makes me brave enough to say the things that could change our relationship forever.
“It eats me up that I hurt you and let you down. You avoided me for two days, and I’ve never been so lonely. If I were you, I’d hate me for ignoring you when you didn’t know if I was okay or not. Using my sponsor as an excuse was a shitty thing to do. I’m so sorry I put you through that. I swear on my skates that I will never do something like that again.” He huffs and tangles his legs with mine.
“But the real truth is that I’m a swan.” I summon my courage. “Swans mate for life in bonded pairs. It’s common for black swans to have male-male pairings. They build nests together and are territorial and aggressive in protecting their breeding territory.”
Lars raises an eyebrow.
“All this time, we’ve been courting and building our nest, and I was a fool to let my insecurities blind me to our pairing. To our lifelong bonding. I hope you’re my swan.” Looking into his eyes, I’ve never been more certain of my heart.
Lars tries to pull me into a hug, about to speak, but I need to say those three words first.
“Lars, I love you.”