Chapter 22 August
TWENTY-TWO
AUGUST
What a whirlwind these past few days have been. I can’t even process it. Riley and me going out to dinner. The night I saw that man talking to Riley.
I keep replaying that night at the nightclub. My plan wasn’t to go up to them and tell him she’s mine. Then, coming up with that bullshit excuse that I was saving her from him when really, the truth was just spilling out of me.
I’ve also got my head wrapped around work and Dad. But it felt like I was hit by a truck when she said she misses me and—her feelings. The next day, I couldn’t really bring that up. She doesn’t remember anything.
Or so she says.
But I’m not going to test that theory of whether she remembers. Just knowing that she has feelings for me is good enough right now. We’ll come back to that later.
She stayed in my bathroom for three hours after being sick. I stayed with her the entire time, not leaving her side. My ass was numb from sitting on the tile floor, but her vulnerability kicked something in me that I haven’t felt since before everything that happened between us.
There’s this need to protect her, to tell her everything will be okay. But I can’t help but wonder what it was she was trying to tell me until her head was in the toilet for an hour.
I wasn’t going to push it. Especially since she had thrown up on her clothes, which made her cry some more. When I tried to get up and grab her a T-shirt to change into, she took my hand, begging me to stay.
It wasn’t until she couldn’t take the smell anymore that she finally let me get her clean clothes. I gave her one of my favorite cotton shirts.
“Hey, boss,” Leo, one of my employees, says.
I raise my coffee cup that I grabbed from Sip-Sip Hurray. “I told you, just call me August.”
He stops folding the pile of T-shirts on the table. “I like saying boss. Your dad lets me say it.”
I take a drink of my coffee and walk past him, heading to my office. “My dad earned that title. I’m still working my way up.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” Leo salutes me and gets back to work.
I remember being the teenager who was folding the clothes on these tables and shelves. Now, I’m the adult who sits in the office doing paperwork.
When I’m in my office, sometimes I think about when Riley and I worked side by side. Well, I should use the word “work” lightly since most of the time we were goofing off. But she made sure to always greet the customers who came in.
She was warm and inviting, while her laugh echoed around the store as she walked around with customers.
I take a breath before opening the door to whatever chaos I left behind the other day.
I’ve created a to-do list, and when I start on something, my focus is pulled toward something else.
Then I forget the original task for a couple of hours, remember it, then feel an overwhelming sensation which leads me to ignore it for the time being.
The stress building inside me is overpowering. It’s been long enough that I should be used to all this by now, but I’m not. Something needs to change.
I look at the disaster in front of me and rub my palm over my face. Garbage overflows the trash can, papers scatter along the desk, and the coffee table. Half-written notes I don’t remember writing stick along the desktop.
The gears in my head start to slow down, almost to an immediate stop as I try to figure out where to start. I set my backpack on the couch, my coffee cup on the desk, and pull off my glasses to rub at my eyes.
My fingers itch to reach into my pocket and grab my phone, wanting to give in to what I know needs to be done. I push down this feeling of defeat, not wanting to give up. I also don’t want to bother the one person I told I wouldn’t need help. Guilt and embarrassment creeps over me.
“Fuck,” I whisper to myself, taking my phone out of my pocket, and pull up a new message. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
My thumb hovers over the keyboard until I force myself to type and hit send.