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“A motel?”
“No money.”
“Your parents could—”
“He’s pretty traumatized,” I said. “They didn’t say as much, but I think they want him to stay somewhere he feels safe. And…not alone.”
“Is he a danger to himself?”
“Possibly. His brother and sister can’t see him until his parents leave the country again, and he doesn’t have friends anymore. Not since Leslie found out, and they took her side—which they should have. Her side was always the only honest side.”
“Peter, don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Did I tell you I saw her? I went to her house. I told her I was sorry. She said she hates me. That seems fair. She told me to go, and I left. But I did it. I took responsibility, and I’m not sorry about that, even if my apology hurt her.” I was rambling now. Maybe seeing someone I cared about beaten up like that had shaken me more than I realized.
I sank into a chair at the kitchen table, laid my head down on the cool wood and took slow breaths.
“Baby, that was brave.”
“I don’t know. It just seemed necessary.”
We were silent together for a few minutes, and then I went on. “Maybe I’ll stay here tonight instead of going home. I don’t want to be there if he’s in the house.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to give him false hope. I mean, I’ve told him flat-out that we’re over, and I explained it with this complicated metaphor about Michelangelo’s sculptures—”
“What?”
“It’s complicated, like I said, but I think he understands. You know…that I’m not going back to him. So, I think I should stay away until he can go be with his brother’s friend tomorrow. Besides, I wanted to see if the sheets still smell like you.”
“You can do that without spending the night, you know.”
“You don’t want me to?”
“You’re always welcome in my house, baby. It’s going to be your house too before long. But I also think…” He sighed. “I think you need to help him right now. I don’t love the guy, and I don’t want you putting yourself at risk for him. If he seems angry, or unpredictable, or dangerous, then stay at my place. But if you’re just running away from having to feel something you don’t want to feel about him? Then I think you should go back home. Deal with it.”
“You want me to spend time with him?”
“Unless there’s a reason you shouldn’t for your own safety, I think maybe you should. Not for him, though it would probably help him, like you said, to not feel alone, but for yourself. Running away from whatever you still feel for him isn’t healthy. It won’t make things better for us, either, when I come home. Confront it now. Put it to bed. Come back to me when you’re done.”
“I won’t be ‘coming back to you,’” I said. “I’m not leaving you.”
“I know. That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want to think there’s anything you can’t face when it comes to him, because that scares me more than anything.”
“Why?”
“If you can’t face what you feel for him, maybe it means there’s still something there.”
“No.”
“People can love more than one person at once,” he said, softly. “Some part of you might still love him.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I don’t hate him. I care about him. But I don’t love him.”
“You’re notin lovewith him,” Daniel said. “But maybe you love him.”
“I don’t know. Everything with him has been so out of control since the day I met him. When I’m with you, things are peaceful, and I like how that feels. I love you so much. I wish you were home. I’d feel safer.”
