Chapter 2 #2
I pause, not used to making selfish demands of anyone, even Caleb.
I’m low maintenance, the farthest thing from needy.
Only right now, that doesn’t feel true. My heart is so fragile it feels like it might crack at the slightest gust of wind, and I’m not sure I can keep it intact.
My best friend feels guilty enough without me piling on, and my parents can only be so supportive when every sympathetic thing that comes out of their mouths is followed by I told you so.
Caleb is the only person I can lean on right now, and I need to trust that he’ll be there to catch me.
So, I take a deep breath and ask for what I need from him.
“I need to know that I’m not in this alone. I need a real partner.”
His expression softens into something more like pity. Taking a step back, his arm slides out of my fingers. He takes my hand in his, but he may as well be standing on the other side of the dance floor for the gaping void between us.
“I’m not sure I can be that for you, Sloan.
” He runs his fingers through his hair, puffing then releasing a long breath.
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this right now.
You’ve had a long day, I’m working—let’s hang out for a bit, then get you something to eat on the way home and we can talk about this tomorrow when you’re back to normal.
There’s a great fish and chips place around the corner that I want to post about. ”
I grit my teeth. “Hi. Have you met me? I’m a vegetarian, remember?”
“See, this is what I’m talking about. This lashing out, this anger—it isn’t you.”
“Maybe it is!” I say, tipping my chin up. “Maybe this is me when I react to stressful situations.”
He shakes his head, frowning like he’s seeing me for the first time. “It’s not the Sloan I know.”
I swallow. He’s right. I’m freaked out because things are falling apart, and I’m pushing too hard.
Normally, I’m a chronic people pleaser; it’s not like me to make demands like this.
But for the first time since I can remember, I’m mad.
Self-righteous, blood-boiling mad. At myself, at Caleb, at Adam’s company.
At the universe for dealing me this shitty hand.
The rage inside me threatens to hit the boiling point, and I take a deep breath, doing my best to think clearly over the incessant thud thud thud of EDM.
I shouldn’t be here. It isn’t my scene, and it hasn’t been for months.
I only come to places like this because of Caleb.
But Lyla has Adam now, and I don’t fit into her settled, married life, and I definitely don’t belong in my childhood bedroom with my parents across the hall.
I need someone to want me as I am. Someone who cares enough to make room for me and all my drama in their life—not just their Uber.
The thought of Caleb telling me he doesn’t want that makes me feel sick to my stomach, and this time it’s more than just from the alcohol.
“You’re right,” I say, trying to steer us back to safer, neutral territory—my specialty. “We don’t need to talk about this. I’m just buzzed and depressed. Let’s go dance.”
“Sloan, wait.” He catches me as I try to walk away.
I follow his gaze to his boat shoes, staring at the strip of bare ankle exposed under his rolled-up pant legs.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” His gaze meets mine again, and though it’s not unkind, I recognize it for what it is—he’s putting himself first. “You of all people know what my family’s like.
They’ve never taken what I do seriously. I need to be with someone who does.”
“I told you, I do—”
He shakes his head. “And—I need to be around positive energy, or this podcast will never work. I have sponsors who are counting on me, and this could be the launch forward in my career I’ve been waiting for, but I need to stay focused.
You obviously need time to figure out what’s next for you, and that’s fine, but… ”
“But what?” I manage, trying and failing to keep my bottom lip from trembling.
He squeezes my hand gently. “Sloan, you know I care about you. But I’m beginning to think we’re on different journeys.”
“Different journeys?” Lyla spits in disgust. I glance behind me to see one hand propped on her outraged hip. “What a grade-A douchebag.”
“I know. Who talks like that?”
“Influencers with overinflated egos, that’s who. I hope a rabid squirrel steals his favorite beanie.”
I snort, and God, it feels good to laugh.
It feels even better to have an ax in my hand, and I send it hurtling towards the target where it sticks with a satisfying thwack.
Lyla got the details over FaceTime after the breakup a week ago, but this is the first time I’ve seen her in person since Adam got fired and we had to bail out of the shop lease.
Since then, she’s been busy focusing on damage control of her life, but this morning she showed up on my parents’ doorstep with an itinerary that would put a camp counselor to shame and insisted on getting me out of the house to help purge my frustration.
I know what she’s doing, and I love her for it, but feeling sorry for myself is pathetic given what she and Adam are going through.
Honestly, I’m more upset about losing the business than Caleb, which proves he might have been right about us after all.
Instead of feeling comforted, though, it only makes me feel worse.
I haven’t missed him once in the last week, and if that doesn’t scream wasted time, then I don’t know what does.
“I spent eight months with him and have absolutely nothing to show for it. I don’t even want to think about what that says about me.”
I send another ax flying with a powerful oomph.
“That you were willing to give him a chance. Or … that deep down you knew it wouldn’t work, but overlooked the obvious red flags because you don’t do well with confrontations.”
The third ax slips as I let go, missing the target and clattering to the floor as I turn and raise my eyebrows at my best friend.
“I didn’t realize we were doing the brutal honesty thing today, or I would have packed an extra pair of underwear.”
She holds up her hands, and I can tell by the firm but determined set of her eyes that she won’t let me deflect this time. “I love you, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, but ultimatums aren’t really your thing, either. Maybe he was surprised?”
He wasn’t the only one. But speaking my mind like that, not holding back, felt good. The only good thing to happen to me in the last week. And I’m not about to apologize for it.
She waves her hand. “Regardless, he showed his true colors last night. Forget Caleb. You should get back out there. I can set you up with one of Adam’s friends. Someone who’s not a Gemini,” she adds with a mumble.
“Hello, I’m an unemployed thirty-year-old living with her parents; I’m a walking turnoff. Who’s gonna want to date me? Besides, with my luck, it would end in disaster.”
Lyla tsks as she trades places with me, adjusting her stance and lifting the ax above her head. “It’s not bad luck. I told you; Mercury is in retrograde right now, which helps no one.”
She sends the ax soaring down the laneway before turning back to me. “Have your parents changed their tune at all?”
I sigh and sip my grapefruit beer, propping an elbow on the chest-high wall separating us.
“They keep reminding me that I don’t need any distractions while I focus on what’s important,” I say, using one hand to make air quotes.
“They mean well, but it’s stressing me out.
Meanwhile, Tabitha is trying to set me up with some guy she has working for her. ”
Lyla perks up, eyebrows waggling. “Hot farm hand?”
“I wish. You know Tabitha. She has a bleeding heart and a knack for finding the people who know how to take advantage of it. If history indicates anything, I’ll be shocked if he’s still there by this weekend.”
We wrap up our game, and Lyla drags me across the street to a little café and bakery.
There, she insists I wait at a small iron table while she treats me to a drink and a donut.
A few minutes later, she sets everything down on the table, and I pull the drink towards me and take a sip, instantly destroying the foam art.
“Whoa,” she says, face grave. “No picture of the first pumpkin spice latte of the season? This is worse than I thought.”
I sigh, turning to face the sunny street through the café window.
The leaves on the trees lining the street are just starting to turn, the bushy green canopies edged with shades of orange and red that normally mark the beginning of my favorite season.
The dead leaves already dried and crumpled on the sidewalk are just a reminder that I’m coming to the end of another year, no closer to getting my business off the ground—or my life together—than I was last year.
“Do you ever feel like you’re taking one step forward, three steps back?”
“Constantly,” Lyla answers without hesitation.
“Did I tell you Aiden decided not to change her major after all that, even though she hates her courses? And Simon still hates me for forcing him to take the football scholarship instead of following his high school girlfriend to the other side of the country? If my siblings would listen to me for once, they’d see I’m right. ”
“You’re not responsible for them, you know,” I remind her gently.
“Except I am,” she says, falling back in her chair. “Trust me, I wish I could turn it off. I have enough problems to deal with right now,” she admits, a rare spark of heaviness to her words. “Mom almost didn’t let me come back to work.”