9. Rory
Rory
“Rory.” Nate’s voice rumbles through me.
He’s too close for rational thought.
Everything in me screams to throw my arms around him and lean into his strong body. To let him comfort me and be my rock, the way he used to.
But he’s not my rock. Not anymore.
So even though my heart is breaking all over again, I lift the glass to my lips and toss back the last few drops of the alcohol. The sharp sting as it flows down my throat is a welcome distraction from the ever-present pain in my chest.
“We’re just leaving,” I say.
I stand from the barstool and level a gaze at Stacey.
Her gaze moves back and forth between me and her nearly full glass of wine, as though she’s silently debating whether to nurse her drink, leave it behind, or toss it back in one go.
I plead with her with my eyes, hoping she realizes the urgency.
I’ll buy her a fucking case of wine if she gets me out of here.
It takes a couple of seconds and one well-placed kick to the shin, but she gets there.
Stacey sets her jaw. “Right.”
She grimaces as she lifts the wineglass and chugs it with all the class of a sorority girl with a Solo cup full of Boone’s Farm, while I flash her a grateful expression.
Finally.
“Put them on my tab, Tony,” she says to the bartender, sliding off her barstool and slamming the glass down with surprising force at the same time.
Tony, for his part, looks only mildly alarmed, but not at all confused at the situation.
Of course he knows everything. Even if Stacey and I hadn’t been sitting right in front of him for the last twenty minutes, dissecting the situation in excruciating detail, we’re in a small town. Everyone knows.
I’m sure everyone has an opinion, too, but I don’t want to know what they are, and so I’ve studiously avoided finding out.
This is my new routine: wake up in my childhood bed, go to work at the barn, shower, High Times, home to bed. Rinse and repeat. And it worked perfectly to avoid running into my ex-boyfriend.
Until now.
Stacey grabs my arm, and we hastily exit the bar, but not before I catch a glimpse of Nate’s crestfallen expression, the look in his eyes hitting me like a gut punch.
I’m pretty sure I don’t breathe until we hit the sidewalk. When I finally force myself to pull in enough air to fill my lungs, all of my emotions bubble up at the same time.
I blow out a breath and let the tears flow while I laugh, even though nothing is remotely funny.
“What do you need?” Stacey asks, taking it all in stride. “We could try Church Bar, or we could just go to my place.”
It’s not the first time I’ve had a meltdown around her recently.
I think we’ve crossed into real friend territory now, because real friends are the ones who stick around when life gets tough.
“I think I’m done with bars for the night.” Done with people, really.
Stacey just nods and puts an arm around me as we walk away from the bars of High Street then turn down a side street toward her apartment.
“Cheers.” Stacey holds her glass up, and I clink mine against it, the sound satisfying in the small living room.
It echoes slightly through the minimalist decor, blankets and pillows creating splashes of color against the mostly neutral walls and furniture.
We finished a bottle of Prosecco first, and now we’ve moved on to Riesling.
The wine was a questionable decision at best, especially after downing the vodka in record time back at the bar.
Aside from the fact that I’m starting to see two of Stacey, the bubbles are dancing in my stomach, and not in a great way. I’m going to feel this in the morning.
I’m already feeling it, if I’m being honest.
Taking another small sip, I stare into the glass as my stomach twists. The booze did its job to dull the pain, as much as it ever does, but now the feelings are starting to come creeping back, churning and climbing up my chest, like they’re about to?—
“I’m going to puke,” I manage as I sprint to the bathroom.
The bright sunlight streams through a window, sending a stab of pain across my not-quite-functioning brain.
I cover my eyes to block it out, not ready to face the day.
“Rory?”
I make a sound that’s half groan, half growl, because it’s too early for words. If nothing else, I’m just hoping the feral noise makes the voice go away.
“How much do you remember?”
Apparently my growling didn’t dissuade Stacey, because if anything, her words are louder.
I rub my eyes and manage to open them, squinting into the sunlight.
A face floats into view, fuzzy at first and then clearing as I try to piece together why I’m in Stacey’s living room.
“You’re on my couch. You had a little too much to drink,” she says.
That sounds familiar. Snippets of yesterday and last night come floating back to me, the images blurry amid the fog that fills my head.
Drinking at the bar, then retreating to Stacey’s.
Nate and his buddies showing up at High Times.
The desperate need to lean on Nate, to tell him about Mom and let him comfort me.
Mom’s cancer.
I roll over, pushing my face into the couch cushion as I try to block everything out.
My brain slightly registers the concern that some of these cushions are white, and maybe I should make sure I’m not staining them, but I can’t gather the motivation to lift my head and find out.
I’m also not ready to deal with the hangover that I’m sure will linger all day, although I probably deserve it with the amount I drank.
I’m not ready to face any of this reality.
Stacey shakes my shoulder. “Up and at ‘em, sleepyhead. I have coffee.”
I just grunt. Coffee sounds good, but the idea of moving any part of my body is a no-go.
She shakes me again, harder. “Get your ass up. I have to go to work and so do you.”
I realize with a start that she’s right.
Mandy will understand if I need a day or two off, but I can’t just not show up, even if the rest of my life is falling apart.
At the same time, though, how can I go to work with everything that’s going on?
Reality lances through my head like a knife.
Actually, the pain may be from the hangover, but realization hits me at the same time as the slice of pain, and it brings a gut-punch of guilt along with it.
“Fuck. My parents.” I manage to pull my face away from the couch cushion and look at Stacey. “I didn’t go home last night. My mom is sick, and I didn’t even go home or call to tell them where I was.”
“It’ll be fine. Dylan is with your dad, and your mom is in the hospital. She won’t even know.”
I flop my arm dramatically over my eyes. “I’m the worst daughter ever.”
“Come on. I’ve got coffee.” Stacey shakes my shoulder, this time so hard I almost fall off the couch. “Besides, I sent Dylan a text to tell him that you were staying over at my place and that he could tell your parents. Everything is fine.”
She picks up a mug from the side table and holds it out to me.
Managing to pull myself into a seated position, I gratefully accept the coffee.
“Thank you. For everything. How did you get Dylan’s number?”
“I used your phone. You really don’t remember any of this?” Her brows furrow with concern. “Rory, you know you’re welcome here any time, and I’m up for a girls’ night of drinking whenever. But I just want to make sure you’re okay. It’s not like you to black out like this.”
I take a sip. The bitter taste seems to help me wake up a little more. “There’s always something. It’s like the universe just keeps piling it on.”
“I’m here for whatever you need with the stuff with your mom. You know that. And…” She pauses, mouth still open, like she’s debating whether to say it out loud.
“What?” I ask. The hangover and everything in my life has me feeling like hell. Whatever she has to add can’t make it that much worse.
She studies me, then bobs her head in a tiny nod. “Okay, then. I just want to make sure you know I’m on your side. I think you should talk to Nate and sort things out, but whatever you decide, I’m here. Okay?”
“There’s nothing for us to talk about.”
Her lips twist to one side. “You said that last night. I just…”
I shake my head, hard enough to revive the headache that had finally eased to a dull pain. “He fucked with my life. I’m done.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, tilting her head. “It just seems like?—”
“Whose side are you on?” The words are as bitter as the coffee, and even as they come out of my mouth, I realize I’m being a bitch to one of the few people who’s on my side. “Shit, I’m sorry, Stace. I know you mean well. And thanks for letting me crash here.”
“I’m here for you, babe,” she says. “And I’m on your side, always. I might have to say things you don’t want to hear, but I’ll always support you. Is there anything I can do?”
I shake my head as tears prick my eyes. The last thing I need to do is alienate my friends.
“There’s nothing anyone can do, Stace. My relationship was built on lies, and my mom is sick and…” I blow out a breath, tears threatening once again. “It feels like everything is falling apart all at once.”
Stacey takes a seat next to me, ignoring the mess I’ve made of her couch, and puts her arms around me.
I let her pull me close and set my forehead on her shoulder as she squeezes me tight.
The comfort feels good, but it’s also a reminder that I can’t get that from Nate. Not anymore.
“Whatever you need, Rory. I’m here for you. I’ve known your parents since I was little, and I care about them, too. And I know Nate. But…anything you need, seriously. Groceries, rides to the hospital, anything.”
“Thank you.” I do my best to hold back the tears that threaten again, because my brain has finally registered that she’s dressed for work.
She needs to get going, and she probably doesn’t want tears all over her cardigan.
She gives me a squeeze then pulls back and waits until I look her in the eye. “Not everything is falling apart, Rory. I know it feels like it. But you’re strong. You’ll get through this. And you have so many people who are here for you.”
I sniffle and sit back. I’m not sure I believe her just yet, but I want to.
“Thanks, Stacey. I’m super grateful to have a friend like you.”
And I am.
Allie’s been my best friend forever. It’s always been the two of us against the world. But she’s far away, and sometimes you need someone close by, someone who can give you a hug and help carry your boxes in from the car.
Stacey is fantastic at both those things. And at this point, I need all the friends I can get.
Stacey glances at her watch, reminding me that she has to be at work on time. “All right. Now, get up. I’ve got stuff to do and so do you. Text me and let me know how you’re doing, okay?”
Once she leaves, I text Mandy to let her know I’ll be coming a little late today, then I help myself to a bowl of cereal from Stacey’s kitchen and another cup of coffee to go with the Advil I found in her medicine cabinet.
I get where Stacey is coming from. I really do. But I also know what it’s like to be excited for a new relationship. To think that this time, someone is going to love me for me.
And to have it all fall apart when I least expect it.
That was my reality for the past ten years. Every time I started something with a new potential boyfriend, it turned into another letdown. Another reason to think I’m not enough.
If there’s even the slightest chance Nate was behind that, it’s too much.
And aside from any contribution Nate had to the demise of my former relationships, this situation has brought all of those old feelings up once again.
The sense of not being good enough, not being perfect enough, just not being enough.
Eventually, I may be ready to talk to him.
But it hurts too much for now.
I down the final sip of coffee. Then, in an attempt to not mess up Stacey’s apartment any further, I carry the mug and bowl to the sink, wash each one, and dry them until they sparkle before I set them in the cabinet.
I’m taking my time because I need a little while to recover from my hangover before heading to the barn. Plus, I need to stop by my parents’ house for my work gear, and I need to check in on Dad to make sure he’s okay.
As I pull out of Stacey’s driveway, though, I realize something else that hadn’t yet occurred to me.
Once Nate and I broke up, I figured it was just a matter of time before I’d head back down to Denver. That’s where my life was before everything with Nate anyway, and it’s where the jobs are.
But I can’t leave my mom like this. If we don’t know how long she has left, I want to spend every second by her side.
So now it’s obvious. I can’t go back.
But there’s nothing for me here, either.