2. Nate #2
He’s right, of course, and it’s freaking annoying.
Not that I was going to get shit-faced, as he puts it, but drinking until I forgot how bad things are? I’ll admit that was on the list of possibilities for my evening.
“It’s just… I’ve spent so long waiting for Rory. I was going to tell her everything. I just didn’t think it would happen like this.” I gesture widely, swaying again.
I probably should have eaten lunch.
Lawton sets a hand on my shoulder. “I know, man. Let’s let Joe close us out and I’ll make sure you get home, okay?”
I barely register what’s happening as Lawton carries our glasses to the bar, talks to Joe, and scribbles his name on a receipt.
“Thanks,” I mumble. It seems like the least I can do.
Lawton claps me on the back. “I’m here for you, man. Let me know what you need. For now, let’s get you home.”
I run a hand over my face. “If I can get her back, I’ll never keep things from her again. Ever.”
Lawton pauses in his attempt to move me toward the exit, turning so we’re face-to-face. “Hold on. I’m confused. I thought you said you didn’t fuck with her relationships.”
“Of course I didn’t!” I’m offended that he’d even think that. But that’s what Rory believed, isn’t it? “Fuck. I need another beer.”
“Nope,” Lawton says. “No more for you. Now, go back to what you were saying. You did keep something from Rory?”
It’s not what she thinks, though. If she’d just give me a chance to explain, she’d understand.
But it might be too late for that.
Lawton offers to let me spend the night at his place, but Ollie’s at home, and I can’t leave him alone, even if he wouldn’t tear up the house or pee on the floor like Spam would.
Spam. My eyes start to water at the thought of the little fucker. I hate that dog.
Okay, maybe not hate, but the little guy annoys the heck out of me.
So why do I miss him so fucking much?
Because Spam is a part of Rory, a voice inside me says. And without Rory in my life, there’s a huge fucking hole in my heart.
The walk from the road to my front door is particularly depressing. The sun is starting to set, the days getting shorter due to Daylight Savings Time. In the twilight, the house is mostly dark—a light in the living room window is the only evidence of life.
I push open the front door. I’ve gotten used to Rory being home when I get back. Cooking in the kitchen, reading on the sofa, playing with Spam.
Now, there’s no scent coming from the stove, no laughter.
Ollie gets up from his bed and trots over to me as I kick off my shoes. He pushes at my hand with his nose, correctly sensing that I’m in a bad mood.
Actually, not a bad mood, if we’re being accurate.
Bad doesn’t come close to doing it justice.
Grieving.
Devastated.
Those are closer to the truth.
I toss my shoes in the closet, even though as I do, I’m reminded that Spam isn’t here. He’s the entire reason I keep my shoes in the closet now, instead of on the mat by the door. But if he’s not here to chew them, I can fall back on my old habits.
I’ve gotten used to having Rory in my life, though, and that includes Spam and his quirks.
I’m not going back to anything about my life before her. Before this chance she gave me.
Flopping down on the sofa, I push a hand through my hair and think. I need to get her back. Do something to show her that I never intended to do anything but make sure she was happy. That I wasn’t trying to ruin anything—I was just trying to make things better.
A text message that I sent to her while I was at the bar is still unanswered. It shows that it was delivered, at least, so I know she hasn’t blocked my number.
Yet.
I stare at her name on my phone, then without thinking, I hit Call.
It rings twice. I hold my breath.
Then: “Hi, this is Rory Kelley’s voicemail. Leave me a message here, or better yet, send me a text. I’ll get back to you. Bye!”
Voicemail.
My stomach drops, because she’s not away from her phone. It would have kept ringing for longer if she didn’t answer.
Nope, she declined my call.
She declined my call.
Declined my call.
My jaw tenses. Rory is stubborn, and when she’s set on something, she digs her heels in and doesn’t let up. It got her into trouble a few times when we were in school. A bunch of times with her parents, who are just as stubborn as she is.
But it’s never bothered me. In fact, it’s one of the things I like about Rory. That she doesn’t give in, that she sticks to her guns.
Right now, though? I’m not loving it. Not at all.
Because as strong-willed as Rory is, I’m even more persistent. When there’s something I want, I go after it until it’s mine.
Doesn’t she realize that I waited ten years for her? I’m not going to give up because of one fight.
But going head-to-head with Rory is a losing battle. No one will win. So I need her to be the one to change her own mind. Show her that she can trust me, that I’m not giving up on us, that I’m still here for her no matter how angry she is with me.
A plan starts to form in my head. One that may work. No, it will work.
But I need some help.
I pick up my phone and send off a text.
Hey, I need your help. For Rory.
And then I sit back and wait for an answer, because this may be my only hope.