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And onto the freeway.
Only once I’m cruising along do I finally breathe, my exhale loud enough to startle me.
To remind myself that I’m sitting in silence, clenching the steering wheel and my teeth in turn.
I deliberately relax my jaw, loosen my grip, and roll out my shoulders.
And then I’m reliving the moment of walking up the driveway of Stefan’s place after being up all night (because I sure as shit hadn’t been able to sleep after what had happened between us).
But somewhere around five in the morning, I’d started to think, to wonder, to hope…
Maybe this was the start of something different. That maybe we couldn’t go back, but maybe we could…
Have something different.
Something new.
Something…better.
And that was the emotion I’d driven to Stefan’s house with. My heart pulsing, hope blooming, words already jumbled as they bounced around my mind.
Because my stupid, stupidbrain is an asshole.
Because I’d been so wrapped up in my idiotic hope that I’d missed Stefan on the porch.
With Tiffany in his arms.
“God,” I groan, head dropping back for a second.
Not long enough to crash, considering the highway is cooking along this early in the morning.
Though I can’t lie.
I’m tempted to just veer a little to the left, to let my car just do a little smooshy-smoosh into the center divide.
If it wouldn’t kill me and take me from Roxie, wouldn’t potentially hurt someone else, I might actually skip beyond intrusive thoughts and plummet straight into?—
Well, that center divide.
Thankfully, I have a kid to live for.
And a hockey team.
And…myself, no matter how much I’m slowly dying inside.
Normally, when I feel like this, I would go spend time with my girl.
But it’s not my custody time, and I know all about her sleepover with Stefan’s parents. And…I know they would welcome me, would include me (they always have, and have made it a point to continue doing so through the shitshow that’s been Stefan and my breakup). But I also know that I definitely cannot see Diane, can’t see Pierre.
Not with how I’m feeling right now.
They will see right the fuck through me.
And…
Yeah, I’ve seen enough pitying looks over the last months to be desperate to avoid more.
I could go for a run?—
