Chapter 12
Theo
It wasn’t hard to get a new job. Forcing myself out of bed to actually show up, though? Now that’s something else entirely.
Trudging to my bathroom, I stand in front of the mirror and brush my teeth. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be out of bed at all, but my rent is already behind. Quitting my job and leaving town seemed like the right thing to do in the moment, and in some ways, I can’t regret it.
But it also sucks. Now I’ve been there. I’ve existed in Luca’s orbit. I know that it’s hard to be around him, but it’s also freeing. I know that being out of the city with horses and baby goats, with fresh eggs cooked for breakfast, is perfection.
Knowing is the worst. It was easy to pretend before. Well, it was easier. Now that I know what it’s like—the quiet, the softness, the joy—it’s hard coming back to… this.
My bed has a broken spring or something, and I didn’t realize how hard it was on my back until I compared it to the plush comfort of the beds at Millie’s Bed & Breakfast.
I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed the simple sounds of nature until my only backdrop was the constant blaring of car horns and people yelling.
It’s made everything so much worse, so much harder than it was before.
Happiness lived as this abstract thing. Something I could see, something right in front of me, but that I could never reach out and touch.
It’s like being a small child, staring through the window of a store at a toy, but only getting as far as pressing your nose to the glass.
Always wanting and reaching, but never quite able to touch the thing you’re yearning for.
The closest I’ve come in years to touching it was riding Molls, the wind whipping off my face, while listening to the sounds of Hunter’s laughter.
I shake those thoughts off. They won’t do me any good.
He’s texted me twice. Once on the day I got home, and then again last night. I haven’t responded. Not because I don’t want to, but because after the way I embarrassed myself in front of him, I’m not sure how to respond.
He was in an impossible position. I know that. Who meets someone and says, “Oh hey, by the way, I know about the giant scar your ex-husband gave you when he tried to kill you.”
No one.
And if he had, I would have gotten right back in my car and left. My shame would have never let me stay. Besides, he had no way of knowing I was going to kiss him. I sure didn’t. Not until I fisted my hand in his shirt and my lips were on his.
Sure, I’d felt betrayed in the moment, but I’m pretty confident that he wasn’t intentionally keeping what he knew from me to hurt me. He wasn’t using it to get close to me or to take advantage of me.
I just keep replaying the whole thing over and over.
If he hadn’t put his hand under my shirt, what would have happened?
If I hadn’t freaked out? Would we be talking right now?
Texting? Would I have stayed? Doubtful. Not like I could have just stayed permanently at their sweet little bed-and-breakfast.
Not without a job. And even with a job, paying for the one-week stay nearly emptied my bank account. There’s no way that I’d be able to handle paying that monthly.
As is, I can barely make my rent, but that’s a problem for future me. Present me can’t handle even thinking about it.
Present me is having a hard time even getting out the door to go to work.
The new gas station I’m working at is just as boring as the last. I’m not sure why I keep working in places like this, but they’re a dime a dozen in the city, with one on pretty much every street corner.
The pay isn’t anything great, but it would be enough to pay my bills if I hadn’t already fallen behind.
At any rate, they’re flexible with my hours, and I even told them about my mental health, which is something I never do. I’m hoping that it affords me at least a little bit of leniency, but I’m not counting on it.
I took Luca’s advice and talked to my therapist. Or rather, I scheduled a virtual appointment and showed up for it. We didn’t do much talking.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling me back to the present, and after looking around to make sure no one is coming toward the counter, I take it out of my pocket.
My heart skips a beat when I see the notification from Hunter. When I tap on it, tears well up in my eyes.
It’s a short video of Lila. She’s out of the barn, nosing at the grass, and doing her little happy hops. In the last second of the video, Hunter starts laughing before it cuts off.
That’s it. Just a video of Lila, and my heart flies into my throat that he sent me something of the animals, just like he said he would.
My fingers hover over the screen while I think about if I want to write something back. I have to, I think. If I don’t, he might not send me any more photos or videos of them. Plus, it’s been long enough. I don’t want to lose the tenuous connection we have. My opportunity is right here.
Mind made up, I type out my message.
Me
She’s so cute. She’s grown so much in just a week.
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it, and then I shove my phone back into my pocket.
I help a couple of people with their purchases before taking my phone out to see if he’s texted back.
Ugh. Nothing.
Fuck. I don’t know what I expected.
While I’m holding it, another message comes in, and my heart flips wildly when I see that it’s from Hunter.
Hunter
She sure is. She’s so darn cute. Taken a real liking to head-butting my shins, though. Even left a nice bruise for me.
I read the message over and over, a stupid-ass smile on my face the entire time.
Me
Not good for your shins
Hunter
Not at all, but I love her, so all is forgiven.
He does seem like the type to forgive and forget. There’s a certain solidness to him. It was that solidness that I felt so safe in. Is that why he doesn’t seem upset with me? Is that why he’s still reaching out despite the way I acted?
Biting my lip, I try to figure out what to say, but before I can, another picture comes through.
This time, it’s a close-up of Lila. She’s moving, given the way her face is half-blurred.
No berating, no cold shoulder, just cute goat pictures.
Me
I miss her
Hunter
She misses you too.
I somehow doubt that. I can’t imagine a world where anyone misses me, but I appreciate the sentiment. After saving the photo and video to my camera roll, I slip my phone back into my pocket without responding.
By the time I get home, I’m exhausted—what else is new? I don’t bother with a shower or dinner. Stripping down to my boxers, I crawl straight into bed.
I make sure to set my alarms for the following morning, my eyes damn near falling shut before I can manage to get it done, and plug my phone in. Hopefully I’ll wake up to them.
1 week later (late April)
Work was isolating, driving home the loneliness I feel here like nothing else. There’s a constant string of people, sure, but it doesn’t feel like it. Everyone seems to exist in their own world while I exist in mine.
We don’t interact. Not in any meaningful way. Not with a real smile or a warm laugh. Nothing beyond them staring blankly at me while I stare back. Sometimes, I’ll get a thank you. Most times I don’t.
It’s just never-ending monotony. I’m tired of it. What’s the point of it all?
After forcing myself to shower, I crawl into bed and grab my phone. I should text Luca. I’ve tried to text him once a day—even set a calendar alert on my phone to remind me. It’s never anything of substance. Just a quick hello or asking how his day was.
He texts back. He always does. Sometimes he even talks to me about his book. It’s nice. I enjoy talking to him, and in some ways it’s easier to do through texts.
I don’t have to see his eyes this way. Don’t have to see the sweet smile he gets when he talks about Austin. It’s still hard, but somehow much easier when I don’t have to see him. When I’m not staring into the gray eyes of the person who causes me the most guilt.
Guilt because of Damien, guilt because of my jealousy.
He doesn’t deserve that.
With a sigh, I type out a message.
Me
Hey, I just got home from work and wanted to say hello. I hope you’re doing okay today.
His response is almost immediate. Sometimes it takes him longer, so he must either be home from work today or just not busy at the diner.
Luca
I hope you’re doing okay too.
My stomach does a violent flip. Am I doing okay? I’m working. I haven’t missed a day or missed an alarm or been too exhausted to go.
Sure, I don’t eat as well as I should, but don’t most people who work at gas stations basically survive on gas station food anyway?
Me
I’m doing alright. Can’t complain.
This time, there’s a lull in the messages, so I exit off and tap on Hunter’s name. He hasn’t talked to me since last week. Not that I’ve talked to him either.
I’ve looked at his messages a lot, though. There aren’t many. Just the video and photo of Lila and the short exchange we had.
Part of me wants to text him, but I don’t even know what to say. Anything I could say just feels like it would be bullshit. Odds are he doesn’t want to hear from me anyway.
With a sigh, I open the video of Lila and hit play, turning my volume up so I can listen to the laughter that rings out in the last second.
When the video is over, I play it again, closing my eyes and listening to that chuckle.
Each time it stops, I tap my screen, playing it over and over in a loop without opening my eyes.
I can almost pretend I’m there this way.
When I wake up the next morning to my alarms blaring, it’s still open on my phone.