Chapter Fifteen #2
With a sigh, I knock off the excessive gunk from my boots and head inside to face the music.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Tristen says, flipping a grilled cheese onto a plate.
“Actually . . . I was hoping we could talk first.”
His lips pinch, and he flicks off the burner.
Like ripping off a Band-Aid, I speak before I can change my mind. “I think we should be friends. No more kissing, hugging, hand-holding. Just friends.”
He crosses his arms. “Any reason why?”
His calm and collected response bristles something inside me. Maybe he doesn’t care like I thought he did.
“This thing between us is new. The longer we are together, the more painful it will be when it doesn’t work out. It’s better this way—we can save our friendship.”
Glancing away, he sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Yeah. I’m going to need a better excuse.”
I blink at him. “Excuse?”
“You’re giving up and for once, I’m not going to let you.
I can sense you’re scared. I can see your hands trembling.
” He grabs my hands tight in his. “Just because you can’t see mine shaking doesn’t mean I’m not scared too.
This is something new for both of us. Don’t give up because it’s difficult. We’re a team, remember?”
Shaking my head, I pull my hands from his. “No. This is for the best. Didn’t you hear what I said before? I ruin everything.”
“I promise you don’t. It’s your anxiety telling you lies.”
“Tristen, I know myself and my limitations,” I growl.
“And I’ve known you almost my entire life.
From fourth grade to now, I think I understand you too.
That kiss we had earlier? My gracious, Reese.
I’ve never felt anything like that before.
Something more than physical attraction.
That connection you talked about on the bus?
I understand it because it ripples through me.
I want more than friendship—I want what we had this morning.
Waking up next to you, holding you as the sunlight pours into the window, laughing until our eyes water, kissing—”
“I don’t like you, okay?” I shout over him, my voice cracking from the strain. My chest heaves as I wait in the chilling silence.
“Excuse me.” He gently places the spatula on the counter and walks out.
When the door clicks shut, I sink to the floor and let the tears run down my face. This was my plan and what I decided. I hate it. The way my heart aches and the sadness that presses into me summoning those dark thoughts.
No, no, no.
God, why do I always screw things up?
I whisper my mantra, waiting for the urge to drink to lessen. But it’s always there, ready to whisper in my ear whenever I show even an ounce of weakness. I’m exhausted trying to stay one step ahead of it. Denying myself joy, denying myself love just so I can make it another day.
But this time, I’m gutted.
Why did I lie? Why did I say I didn’t like him, when I feel more for him than for anyone else I know? All the cat eyes around the room mock me like they already know what I’ve done.
I’ve made the worst mistake in my life.
Worse than dating Burns.
Worse than cutting Des out of my life.
Worse than taking my first drink.
I survey the camper around me. The broken dinette, the flooded bedroom, and the sunken couch—and possibly even more surprises I haven’t found yet.
Maybe this is what I look like inside, slowly falling apart with each bad decision I make.
I try to ignore the damaged pieces, but then one problem causes another.
Why am I not getting better? Almost two years of sobriety and I still haven’t figured it out. Am I stuck in a failure loop I can’t seem to escape?
Maybe I have no control over my life after all.
My head jerks up at the warmth in my chest, the pressure that’s been pestering me since Des prayed over me at the hospital. Something was missing . . . a hole I couldn’t fill. One that I used to fill with alcohol, but now, it’s just an ache.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper to the empty room. “Help me.”
The crackling of fire sounds from outside, luring me to the window.
Tris.
Two folding chairs sit by the campsite’s fire pit.
He doesn’t move in his seat as I head outside, his eyes trained on the dancing flames.
I slide into the other chair, dashing the tears from my cheeks.
The air is warm and toasty, the opposite of the chill I feel inside.
Smoky plumes drift skyward, reminding me of bonfires at Des’s new house.
“Come out to apologize again?” he asks without turning.
“Yes.”
“Well, you shouldn’t. You can’t help the way you feel . . . or don’t feel.”
“Right now, I feel sick inside. I shouldn’t have yelled that at you. I didn’t mean it.”
“You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t think it.”
“I thought I was doing what was best. I’ve been feeling out of sorts since . . . well . . .”
He pokes a stick into the red embers, releasing a cloud of smoke. “Since our kiss, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why didn’t you say something when I asked you about it? I care about your feelings, Reese. I would have slowed down if you gave me the opportunity.”
“The problem is I don’t want to go slow. I like you.” His head whips toward me. “A lot. It’s like I can’t think straight when I’m around you. I make stupid decisions—”
“Like telling me to just be friends?”
“Friendship is better than you being ripped out of my life completely when I do something wrong. There’s bound to be something I’ll do or say.”
His eyes slowly rove over my face, his brow lifted in worry like he’s already thinking of ways to fix me. “I could never rip you out of my life—ever. You mean too much to me to do that.”
I let out a shaky sigh. “You say that now . . .”
“Why are you so sure we are going to fail?”
“When I’m around you, my mood swings are more frequent. It’s overwhelming and exhausting. I lose control, and I can’t drink again, Tristen. I don’t know if I’ll survive it if I do.”
Sitting up, he grabs the armrest of the chair and walks it next to me, plopping himself back in the seat. He rests his hand over mine, threading his fingers between mine.
“You are allowed to feel emotions. That doesn’t mean you’re going to relapse, it means you are normal. Bottling your feelings inside is like shaking a can of soda—it never ends well. You need to live, Reese.”
“I’m scared. Big emotions are triggers for me, and when I’m around you, that’s all I feel.”
“Triggers for drinking?”
“Yeah.”
“But big emotions are who you are, even before you had your first beer. You don’t do anything on a small scale.”
“I didn’t want to push you away, but I didn’t know what else to do.”
“But that’s the problem. You’re trying to do everything on your own, including making decisions for our relationship.
You’ve called me bossy more times than I can count, but this time, it’s you running the show without letting me have any input.
” He turns to me, his eyes glassy. “I know in my bones we will be good together. Will every moment be perfect? No, because no relationship is. But this isn’t a fleeting moment for me, this is more.
You are more to me. I just wish you felt the same way. ”
I stand at the brink again, the temptation to jump to him filling me, overwhelming me, desperate to keep him close as long as I am able. Maybe I’ll never be normal like I was before. But with Tristen, there’s a chance for happiness.
“I do feel the same,” I say.
“It’s okay to be scared,” he whispers. Lifting our joined hands, he presses a kiss to my knuckles. “New things are scary. All I’m asking is for you to at least try. You won’t be alone.”
“And when you move to LA?”
He presses another kiss on my knuckles, holding my stare.
“I’m not going.”
I jolt in my seat. “Since when?”
“Since I realized I was in love with you.”