Chapter 28 #2
“Because it’s not fucking fair. You fought so hard to get to where you are now, and you put so many years into this and so much money.
” He sighs. “For a long time, I just told myself that I can’t be the person to tell you that you don’t like your job, because I knew you didn’t want to hear it.
But now that I’ve said it out loud, I know it’s not quite that simple.
Because you love it, too. And it’s so fucking complicated, isn’t it?
That’s what makes you mad. I’m trying to reduce something complicated to a simple yes or no question. ”
Stunned, I just stare at him.
Four and a half years of queasy uncertainty.
“Is that close to the truth?” he asks softly.
“I hate my job,” I whisper incredulously.
“But you don’t hate being a doctor.”
I shrug, helpless. “I don’t know.”
“Sometimes, it lights you up like nothing else.”
I think about the ways his eyes can burn like fire when he looks at me.
Do I sometimes feel that way about medicine?
Yes. Without hesitation. But the endlessly complicated negotiations of working with a dozen conflicting personalities has drained me.
And the people management part of being chief resident has destroyed me.
And the way I had to throw myself into my residency, all or nothing, ruined my relationship.
“Oh, my God, Garrett, what am I gonna do?”
“I don’t know. Probably get mad some more.”
I make a helpless sound that’s part laugh, part sob. “That actually is unbearable.”
He slides his fingers into my hair, gentle as can be. “No, mad I can handle. Mad is at least acknowledging that there’s a problem here, even if we don’t want to name what it is. The unhappy is…there’s no fix for that. But mad, there are fixes for that.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know that part yet. We— we’re gonna sort that out.”
We.
“I like the sound of we,” I admit.
“Me, too.” He takes a breath, then lets it out in a rush, and it’s like a dam bursts. “I want you back. I regret leaving so much. I knew that I made a mistake immediately.”
Both of us react to that. He snaps his spine straight, sitting up taller. Maybe he’s surprised that he said that out loud, but I’m so glad he did, because I lean in and touch his arm, all the fight leaving me.
I don’t want to play games.
I don’t want to fight.
I want to know where we went wrong, and why we couldn’t fix it last spring.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “Tell me more.”
He gives me a look like he’s not sure he believes me.
And frankly, I don’t blame him.
But when I don’t look away, he starts talking again.
“Moving out was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done,” he admits, his voice rough. “It felt like I was tearing myself in two, leaving the most important part of myself behind and stumbling out into the world as half a man.
“But I also knew that my happiness couldn’t hinge on your happiness or on you, period.
I needed to find something in myself, for myself, of myself.
For the first time ever in my adult life, I got to ask myself the question, what do I want?
” He stares at me now, really intently. More intently than he’s ever looked at me before.
“And at no point. At no point, were you not that answer.”
I can’t breathe.
He drags his hand to my shoulder, anchoring himself to me. “I’ve always wanted you. I will always want you.”
“But…?”
The look on his face is so fragile.
I push up on my knees and wrap my arms around him. So he doesn’t have to look at me, but he can hold me as he continues.
He presses his face into my neck, his words muffled now. “But when we were young, I thought that I needed you. You were my entire life, and when your life got really hard, it dragged me down in a way I couldn’t make sense of. I was nothing but a support person, and you didn’t want to be supported.”
That’s so hard to hear. So hard not to react to.
But I need to hear it, so I just keep holding him.
He kisses my neck, my jaw, and then presses his cheek to mine and exhales. “You know, when we were driving here, I was thinking about how excited you are to come home, that this is your home, and I don’t have a home. Not like that. You were always my home.
“So this summer, for most of this year, I had to really get comfortable with the idea that I was a man without a home, and that I that I had to find a way to be okay, truly on my own, truly in myself.”
“Garrett…”
“Let me get this out. I need to say more, Roar. Because I am okay without you, but I’m not great. I’m not fucking great, that’s for sure.
“But it scares me too, because I can feel how easy it would be to sink back into you being my entire world, living and breathing for you. I like taking care of you, but I’m not sure that you like me taking care of you.
I think it makes you feel helpless, maybe, and you’re not.
You’re anything but. You’re amazing. Because of you, babies are born safely and mothers survive when nature doesn’t work out exactly as they wanted it to. ”
He eases back just enough to take my face in his hands. “I hear those stories from you, and I think you’re fucking incredible.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Then I take a deep breath. “This isn’t my only home.
You asked me if I’m thinking of coming back here to work.
The reason I said no is because I wouldn’t make that decision without you.
I’m not sure I’m cut out for a hospital position in Ottawa, either, but I haven’t made a decision about where to go because I can’t.
It’s felt like I’ve been stuck between a rock and a hard place, knowing I needed to leave, and not being able to leave where we built a life.
In a way, you’re my home, too. But I know what you’re saying about that being problematic.
I know I need to find my own happiness inside myself, and that’s easier said than done. ”
“You’ll find it,” he promises. “And no matter what, you and me are forever some kind of we. You’re my best friend.”
“If I’m your best friend,” I whisper, teasing, “why didn’t you consult me before you pierced your fucking penis?”
He laughs. “Would you have told me not to?”
“No. I’d have gone with you and held your hand.” I bite my lip for a moment, but since he’s already admitted to jealousy… “I thought you got it because you met someone new and more exciting than me.”
He groans and shakes his head. Staring at my mouth, he runs his thumb over my lip, where I’d just pressed my teeth. “There was nobody else. I got them for me, because I knew I’d be alone with my right hand for a long, long time. Maybe forever. I couldn’t imagine moving on from you.”
“Because I’m your best friend,” I whisper against his thumb.
His gaze darkens, turns amber in the twinkling Christmas lights as my teeth graze his skin on friend.
“I want you to be more than that,” he rumbles. “That’s just the no matter what foundation.”
“I’ve missed kissing you.”
He moves in close. Not quite kissing, but almost. We will.
“And I’ve missed sleeping next to you. I love how warm you are.”
He nods silently.
My heart is galloping now. “I’ve missed telling you that I love you.”
“Tell me now.”
“I love you so much. And it hurt so much to be apart.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers against my mouth, his voice low and rough. Raw. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’ve missed everything about you. I love you, too.”
He kisses me, finally. Perfectly. Deeply.
“I love you with all that I am,” he says on a rushed breath between kisses as he pulls me back to straddle him again, this time with his back against the couch. “Can you be a quiet girl for me?”
“You might need to kiss me to shut me up.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.”