The Time It Takes

Chapter three

Sometimes, I remember my dreams. That night, I had a pretty intense one.

I was walking along the top of a cliff, trying to stay balanced.

Someone was shouting at me, telling me to go faster, but I couldn't go faster unless I wanted to fall and tumble down to my death on the rocks below.

Loud waves hit the shore below the cliff, a shore that was made of jagged rocks, no sand at all.

It was a place I'd been before, at least in my dreams. It seemed more real to me than some of the places I'd actually gone to. In the dream, it was familiar. It always was.

Behind me, grass whipped, and the wind was picking up. I almost couldn't hear the person shouting at me to hurry up, but I knew who it was. I didn't look at her. I couldn't. I felt like I was balancing on a tightrope.

I knew if I rushed, if I listened, I'd fall to my death. I couldn't even look at her. I just had to look at my feet, so I could follow the small path scarred into the cliff.

I didn't know where I was going, and I didn't know why I couldn't just step back down towards the grass and go away from the edge entirely. But I knew with my whole heart that this was a matter of life or death, and I couldn't listen to anyone else about it.

I woke up with my heart pounding, my sheets covered in sweat. I looked over at the woman sleeping beside me. Good, I hadn't awakened her. I slipped out of bed and padded out of the bedroom.

I washed my face and got a drink of water. I walked around the living room, pacing, thinking about the dream.

Things can seem really clear in dreams, even when they're not.

I thought about texting my partner, but I don't know why. It wasn't like he could do anything about any of it, and he was probably sound asleep, like I should be.

I doubted he ever woke up like that, or felt so strangely unsettled by a dream.

I grabbed my phone to check emails and scroll around online until I felt tired enough to sleep. If that ever happened.

There was nothing in the news that wasn't just going to stress me out more, but I wasted some time reading relationship drama posts online, and then went down a rabbit hole or two about gaming.

It had been a while since I got to do much gaming.

I wondered if it was worth the bother to try to start playing something tonight.

Would it relax me, or just make me lose any last chance at sleep?

Probably easier to just mindlessly scroll forums about other people's problems.

My phone chimed—a text from Arlie. I felt myself smiling before I even read it.

Do you want donuts?

Forget the forums. I texted him back immediately.

You're up early. No thanks to donuts.

Can't sleep, he texted. Wanna go to the gym?

Damn it. Yes, I did. I hated that I felt like I was going to suffocate if I stayed here, that the phone was my only escape—that I didn't want to go back and join my girlfriend in our bed, which was supposed to be a sanctuary. Or sleep more and find out what other dream I'd have.

We met up in the parking lot. I parked near his car and got out.

He got out of his car and hugged me. I always liked being hugged by Arlie.

I hadn't had many friends who liked hugs before, and my family wasn't particularly demonstrative.

When it turned out he was a hugger, I'd been a bit surprised.

He looked so macho, like he wouldn't be super friendly and affectionate.

But he was, with me. I'd gotten used to it pretty quickly, and actively liked it now.

There's something nice about a big strong guy not being ashamed to show how happy he is to see you, and wanting to wrap his arms around you in greeting. It felt special, being Arlie's partner. It always felt like as soon as I got there, he noticed, and my presence made everything brighter.

"Bad night?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "You know how it is."

Sure, I knew how it was. But I didn't know he did. We went in together to get a workout in, and by the time we were done, I felt somewhat revived, and even though I hadn't gotten enough sleep, I knew I could face the day, with Arlie by my side.

"Where do you want to eat?" he asked.

I could go home, cook something. Face Darby and her wrath. Or sadness. I didn't know which one would be worse.

"We could go back to my place and have breakfast with the pack," he offered gently. I realized he'd been watching my face, with maybe a little too much understanding in his gaze.

I raked fingernails through my hair. "Um, sure. I'd like that." I tried to sound casual. It was kind of a treat to be invited to eat with the pack for a home cooked breakfast. They always had a lot of food, and all of it was good. Sometimes I felt like a younger sibling who couldn't keep up.

Wolves ate a lot, and sometimes they got competitive. There was a reason shifters were barred from some eating competitions; there had been shifters who joined just "for a good meal," and walked away with the championship.

We drove over to his place and parked next to each other.

I thought I probably shouldn't care about how good our cars looked next to each other, but I did.

I always liked the way their colors matched—not the same, but looking good together, his blue, mine greenish turquoise. I liked it when we matched.

He gave me another hug when we got out of the cars. "What was that for?" I was surprised, but pleased.

"You looked like you needed it." He studied my face for a moment. "You know it's not working, right? Something's not working with you and Darby."

"Uh. Yeah. I know. I'm planning to—end things."

He drew back and studied my face, searching. "When?" he asked bluntly.

"Soon."

He gave me a sober, sad look. "Do you need me there with you?"

I shook my head and looked away from him, feeling the shameful sting of tears. God, he didn't think much of me, did he? Did he think she was going to attack me or something? For pity's sake. I could take care of myself.

It just didn't feel like I was doing a very good job lately. "I'll be fine," I told him, trying to end this conversation with some semblance of self respect left in me.

He didn't say anything.

I sighed. "I'll have to move. We'll have to divide up everything. Tell our families. They'll be so disappointed."

He kept quiet.

"Start dating again, though maybe not for a while." I sighed.

"There's no rush," he said.

"I liked her so much," I complained. "It's not fair. We can't stand to be around each other anymore. Why couldn't it just be easy?"

"I don't think most relationships are easy, but they're also not supposed to be that hard," said my partner, annoyingly correct.

"Well, what about for wolves?" I said. "Don't they get easy relationships?"

"No," said Arlie. "They don't. Maybe sometimes. I don't."

That was certainly true.

I sighed.

He'd been on some okay dates, from what he'd told me, but there was just nothing there. He'd told me it wasn't the gender, but the person he fell for, or didn't. But the fact was, he hadn't been able to find someone he connected with, even when he'd been trying hard.

I'd only ever seen or heard of him dating women, though. Not that it was my business, but sometimes it seemed like he didn't want to actually be bi in practice. You can bet I kept that particular thought to myself.

We went inside together to have breakfast with some of his pack mates.

I was greeted as always in a friendly manner—good natured pats on the arm, bear hugs, the occasional punch in the shoulder or pinch on the cheek.

I didn't mind the physically affectionate nature of the pack.

I kind of reveled in it, sometimes. There weren't many places I could go where it seemed like just seeing me arrive made people happy.

We sat down next to each other, crammed in close at a long table.

The pack's best cooks had made a hefty meal, starring eggs and ham with French toast and some extras.

There was plenty, but they ate like it was a contest. Arlie beside me stayed regal and calm and dished me up what I wanted before serving himself and sitting down to eat at a more measured pace.

I never knew, with Arlie, if he ate in a slow and regal manner to prove something to himself or other people, or if he just didn't like to rush.

I didn't feel it was my place to ask why he didn't bolt his food or ever seem to get territorial about it.

We ate pressed close together because there wasn't much room.

I didn't mind the chaos here, even if I disliked chaos in my life in most ways.

He finished his second plate, almost daintily, and looked at me inquiringly. I shook my head. I was done, too. We got up together.

I knew by now better than to offer to contribute any cash to the pack for what I'd eaten, but helping to clear up was acceptable and appreciated. I headed into the kitchen to help. While I was walking, I thought to check my phone, more a reflex than anything else.

No texts.

Good.

I wasn't looking forward to the conversations ahead.

I thought about it again, as I worked. It seemed odd, in a way, that the things I'd put forward as objections had mostly been about inconvenience and what other people would think.

That was strange, wasn't it? Had I just not wanted to tell my partner anything more awkwardly emotional and personal than that?

"Ready to go?" asked Arlie, clapping me on the back. He'd changed into his uniform. He always looked nice in it.

"He hasn't finished helping," said Ellie, who'd joined me right away and was working beside me.

"If we don't go, we'll be late," he said. "You want me to drive? We can leave your car here for today."

I'd changed into my uniform after getting cleaned up at the gym, so there was no need for me to go home. And I liked it when my partner drove. It was nice not having to be on constant alert just to get from point A to B.

We got into the car, and I started to scroll. A few minutes later, Arlie cleared his throat. I looked up from my phone. "Hm?"

"We need a plan. When you break up, where are you going to stay? You'll probably be stressed, so you need to know beforehand where you'll go next. Maybe you could come stay with the pack. With me."

"I don't know," I said. I wasn't sure how much company I'd want when I was dealing with all of that—or how embarrassing it might be. Although, I felt a little better already for having decided what to do, even if there was some sadness in it, too.

Making a decision was better than being stuck forever. That didn't mean it was going to be easy and fun ending a three year long relationship with a woman I'd loved.

"I've moved a lot of my stuff out," I admitted to him. "I don't want her to trash my things."

"You think she might?" He sounded alarmed.

"Oh yeah. For sure." I was back to focusing on my phone. "She doesn't even like me now. You think she'll be nice about the breakup?"

"Oh god," said Arlie.

"Don't worry about it. It's not your problem." He didn't need to take it so seriously. It was kind of irritating to have my partner think I couldn't handle myself. "I'll deal with this."

"No, bud. Not a good idea. What if she hits you? I don't want you hurt. I don't want you hitting her back, either, in a fit of anger. If she's that unstable, you shouldn't be there alone."

"I'm not in danger," I told him. "And I'd never hit her."

He took a deep breath. I glanced at him, and the way he was gripping the steering wheel.

"You don't need to worry about me so much," I told him.

He let out his breath, and I could hear the surrender in it. "Okay. Just...call me if you need me, okay? Whatever it is. I'll be there, or I'll listen. Whatever. I'm always going to be your backup."

I looked up from my phone and found myself smiling at him. "Thank you." It was really good to hear that.