Page 111 of Split You Open

Twenty-Five

Blair

Idon’t drink.

Haven’t since college and honestly, I don’t really see the appeal. The dizziness, the sloshing of alcohol in your stomach, and god the taste was just… urgh.

That being said, I could use a shot of something strong now.

I smile as Rhett places his hand on Santi’s thigh while he drives us to the Navarro House. Rhett sees it in the rearview mirror as our eyes lock. Creases around his eyes tell me he’s smiling back. It takes everything in me to keep it firmly in place and to really feel it. I am happy for them, truly.

And I’m happy that I can be a part of this.

It’s all I ever wanted, right?

Before Gnarly Pines, I was afraid to commit to anything other than a quickie. I couldn’t be myself and I feared starting a relationship on the foundations of a lie would ultimately only end in pain. Here, these men adore me and I’ve found love.

So why does it feel like chaos rattling around in my chest?

Is it because with love comes other complex feelings?

I understand Rhett’s anxiety, the same way I understand Santiago’s jealousy, and Wes’s fear as he warned us to be careful when we headed out tonight. And Ledger? Well, I don’t know Ledger’s feelings but maybe that’s for the better because I’m drowning in their emotions.

They’re piling up on top of my own and I just… I don’t know what to do with it all.

Reaching up, I pull the Gnarly Pines baseball cap down further to obstruct anyone’s view of my face—not that there would be very many neighbors up at this hour to see me.

If I’m being honest, it’s to hide from Rhett’s scrutiny.

Is this why Dad left society–because connecting with others is so fucking hard?

In his world, in the world I grew up in, everything was black and white. It was easy. Emotions were fleeting but when allowed, they didn’t feel like this. They weren’t so overwhelming and there weren’t so many at once.

The majority of the ride I’m quiet, enjoying Rhett and Santi’s light conversation and the music playing low from the radio. But that silence doesn’t mean I’m retreating.

I’m studying my emotions.

Figuring them out.

By the time we pull up to Santiago’s house, I’ve unraveled the chaos and have come to a solid, doable conclusion: we need to get out of our own heads.

No more thinking about the danger looming over us or wondering if letting Ledger free was a bad idea. We need to stop worrying about an uncertain future and how this could all possibly end. No fear. No worries.

Just fun.

Rhett parks in the driveway and throws the hood of his sweatshirt up to cover his face.

“Let me go unlock the door,” Santi says quickly.

He scrambles out of the truck and hurries toward the front door. Rather than watch him, my eyes scan the rooftops and dark shadows where the light from the streetlamps don’t reach.

“He’s waving, let’s go,” Rhett says as he shoves open the door.

I follow his lead, climbing out of the back. Rhett rounds the front of the truck and throws his arm around my shoulders. As we walk together toward the front door, he bends down and kisses my cheek.

“I’ve never been so excited to be a loser,” he murmurs into my ear. “I’m looking forward to whatever you’re cooking up.”

I giggle as we pass Santi and enter the house.