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“What are you talking about?” I shout back, pushing off the wall I was leaning against, clenching my fists at my sides.
Mickey sighs like I’m being annoyingly obtuse. “You’re scared to let her in because you then risk losing her.”
“Come again?”
The fact that he doesn’t turn my words into an innuendo is all the proof I need to know he’s being completely serious. “Everyone thinks I’m the only one with skeletons in my closet, Soren. Sometimes I even think you’re one of them. But you’re just as fucked up as I am. Ryan died and your parents practically disowned you. You, my fucked up friend, are a commitment phobe. You’re scared she’ll leave or reject you.”
I’m so floored by his outburst and how true it is, that I’m surprised I’m not knocked on my ass. Instead, I stagger to the side and throw myself down onto the nearest stool. My thoughts are racing so fast it’s hard to keep up, but through the maze of memories and fears, it’s more than clear that Mickey is onto something.
Dick!
“So what the fuck do I do?” I barely recognize my own voice as I ask the question.
“Admitting a problem is generally the first step,” Mick retorts, winking at me. “But beyond that, you might need to explain this to her and maybe even share something with her. You know, open up. Chicks dig that.”
Scoffing, I take the cup from his hand, drinking the last of the coffee. It’s fifty percent to have something to do with my hands to stop them from shaking, and fifty percent because he really is on a dick roll today.
“What about you?” I ask once I’ve drained his cup.
“Don’t worry about me,” he grins. “I got my shit under control. After our last game, I’m going to take her out on a date and apologize. Then I’ll woo her with my irresistible charm and amazing wit.”
He’s got to be fucking shitting me. He really thought all this through.
“You know, back before Simone destroyed everything good in my life, I was the king of relationships. It’s you I’m worried about because orgasms aren’t going to be enough for Gail.”
For some reason, my mind flicks back to when she refused to let me call her ‘baby’, claiming she was just my whore. Wait, is that what she meant? Did she want me to tell her differently? Fuck, of course she did. Fuck me, Mickey’s right—not that I’ll ever tell him. But I really am being stupid.
“Do you love her?” My tone is strained and my breath ragged.
Mickey shrugs. “I don’t know… maybe. A little, but not in the stupidly blinding way I thought I loved Simone. This feels more like… the kind that’ll last a lifetime.”
“How do you know?”
“Man, what the fuck? I’m not Dr. Phil. I don’t know how I know. For me, it wasn’t really about knowing. It was more like… I had to admit it to myself. But I think I fell in love with her when she was Abby.”
Nodding, I pull my phone out and tap away on it, which Mickey takes as his cue to leave the kitchen, mumbling something about needing more sleep.
I call Nana, wanting to make sure she’s around this afternoon, and that she’s up for visitors, which she is.
Love… do I love Gail? How the fuck can I know that when the people who were supposed to love me didn’t? Shit, I never realized how much my parents betraying me has fucked me up. I mean, I knew it was a sore spot. But that’s as far as I thought it went.
Looking down at my phone, I scroll through the contacts, finding my mom’s. Without giving myself time to second guess my decision, I press the call icon with my thumb and listen as it rings.
“Hello Soren.” My mom’s tone is pleasant, one of those you use when you greet anyone, but definitely not someone who’s special to you.
“Hi Mom,” I say. “How are—”
“Did you want something? Is your grandmother okay?”
What the hell?
“She’s fine.” My tone is clipped and I’m working overtime not to snap at the woman on the other end. “I wanted to—”
“Soren,” Mom sighs, and I can just imagine her removing her glasses, squeezing her eyes shut, and either rubbing her temple or pinching the bridge of her nose. “What do you want? It’s not my birthday, so there’s really no reason for this call.”
This was such a bad idea.
“How’s Dad?” I ask, ignoring her obvious attempt at getting me off the phone as quickly as possible.
