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“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I sigh, closing my eyes as I drop my face down into my hands. “I don’t know if I’m ready to do it, you know?” I lift my head and shrug pathetically. “I don’t feel like I should go back home and rely on my mom, but I don’t know that I’m ready to be on my own.”
Cartier snaps her gum, leaning back on her hands on the mattress. “So, try it out and if you don’t like it, go home.”
“I signed a lease,” I explain, pursing my lips. “Pretty sure that I gotta at least stay the first month, since it’s a monthly lease.”
“I mean, did you sacrifice a virgin and sign the contract in blood?” Cartier rolls her eyes. “People break their leases all the time. Plus, it’s not like you don’t have the money to foot the bill to get out of that shit early.”
I stare back at her, taking a deep breath as I try to calm my nerves. “I don’t wanna think about it right now. I shouldn’t be planning on moving out before I even move the fuck in.”
Cartier nods along and I’m not sure if she’s actually agreeing with me now or just doing it to appease me. Either way, she sits back up right, switching gears as she changes the conversation. I struggle to follow along because my mind is still plagued by the thoughts of moving.
I haven’t told Killian about it yet. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t be supportive, but I can’t help but shake the nervous feeling when I think about dropping it on him. He has his own shit that he’s been trying to take care of and worry about. I don’t need to drag him down with my own negative thoughts and second guessing things.
Killian doesn’t plan for the future, because with the way he grew up, the future never seemed like a sure thing. It’s not guaranteed for anyone, but he was taught to only think about the present. The moment that we are living in.
Knowing him, he probably hasn’t even thought about what he’s going to be doing once he is done with treatment. He still has to go into the men’s sober living house after he finishes his stint at the facility. Neither of us have even talked about what the hell is going to happen after he moves there. Regardless of the progress we make individually, it’s like we are constantly taking three steps back together.
Something’s gotta give at some point.
It’s like the universe is trying to keep us apart, even though we are drawn to each other like a moth to a flame. What I don’t understand is why? Why the fuck does everything keep working against us? And when will we finally get our happily ever after?
If we ever do…
* * *
Desi called,asking if I could cover for her this afternoon. Something had come up—some type of a family emergency—so she asked if I could come in so she could leave. I didn’t bother her for details, since it really wasn’t my business, but judging by the streaks of her mascara down the sides of her face, something bad must have happened.
Dr. Conrad wasn’t there either, which means he’s been taking days off more often. After I saw that paper about the child with cancer, I have my suspicions, but that’s all they are. Another thing that isn’t my business, so I stay out of it.
The afternoon has been slow, so slow to the point that they really didn’t even need me to be in here right now. I understand why they need someone here just in case, but goddamn. There’s not a single empty bed here right now, so the most that I’ve done today was direct calls to other facilities nearby.
It sucks, having to turn people away who are desperately in need of help, but we literally can’t take on anymore patients right now. Soon, they’ll be moving the next group of guys into the halfway house, so that will free up a few beds, but we have a waiting list after Ander took the last bed.
All I can do is hope that the patients we’ve had to turn away can find the help they need before it’s too late. I dread the day that I have to put calls out to the names on the waiting list and hearing which ones either aren’t interested in treatment any longer or aren’t around anymore to be in the program.
The phone beside me rings and I jump in my seat as it breaks through my thoughts, startling me. I frown, picking up the receiver as my stomach rolls. “This is Better Daze. How can I help you?” I hold my breath, waiting to have to turn down yet another addict.
“Meet me in the supply closet at the end of the hall,” Killian’s voice is low as he speaks his demands through the receiver. “The one closest to my room. Don’t keep me waiting, baby girl.”
My lips part and he ends the call before I get the chance to respond. I glance around the already empty room, hoping to see someone, but I’m still alone. Anticipation builds inside and I slide my chair back, getting up as I follow my heart.
That’s the thing with Killian… whenever he calls, I always come running.
I slip into the hallway and it’s quiet and empty. The door closest to me is open, left ajar but no light creeps through the small crack. My heart pounds erratically in my chest, my pulse thrumming in my neck as I slip into the darkness. As I step inside, the door quietly closes behind me.
“Killian?” I whisper, my arms stretched out as I feel for him. The faint scent of his body wash fills my nose as I inhale deeply. I can’t see him, I can’t hear him, but I can fucking feel his presence consuming me. My hands land against his warm chest and I feel him wrap his arms around my waist.
“Hey you,” he murmurs, pulling my body flush against his as he buries his face in my neck. “I know you don’t like this shit, but I needed to see you.”
His lips brush against the side of my neck as he tilts his head, dragging his tongue along the column of my throat. “We need to talk,” I whisper, not fully trusting my voice. I don’t know why I’m so fucking nervous around him right now, but the panic builds inside me.
“Mhm,” he mumbles against my skin, his fingertips inching under the bottom hem of my T-shirt. “Talk to me baby girl.”
I swallow roughly over the knives in my throat. “We need to talk about what happens next. After all of this.”
“Well, first…” He pauses, pressing his lips to my neck. “I’m going to slide your shirt up over your head and—”
He’s distracting me, like he always does. “Killian. Stop.”
