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“Do you have feelings for him?” I ask a minute later. Sully just glares at me.
“Not like that. We were lovers for a little while, a long time ago. We’ve been friends for much longer than that.”
“Okay.” The knot in my stomach eases somewhat. “Okay.”
I grab two beers this time and sit back down. Sully waits me out again, though this time I can tell the silence is costing him.
“You’re right,” I say. “Things got complicated. West and me. And Raleigh.”
“And then Finn found out,” encourages Sully.
“Yeah,” I say. “And then Finn found out. He punched West. And then West called the whole thing off.”
“He did what now?”
“Said he couldn’t do it anymore,” I say, shrugging. It hurt to focus, so I talk faster to get this part over with. “Broke things off with Raleigh and me both.”
“That bastard.” There’s only a mild heat when he says it, though; Sully looks confused more than anything. I can certainly relate. A long moment passes before he speaks again.
“Tell you what, Cal,” he says at length. “Let’s both go beat him up this time.”
Sully and I drink all the rest of the beer, then finish off the last of a bottle of whiskey we opened for Finn’s birthday two years ago. My tears don’t bother Sully, thank God, and it’s a relief to be able to talk openly about Raleigh and West and Finn and how much of a mess we got ourselves in.
The next morning, I find myself in the waiting room at the therapist’s office, making lists for Hale House and trying my best to get over being nervous. These people get paid to listen, Callahan. And whatever you’re going to tell them, they’ve probably heard worse. Or weirder. Either way, it can’t hurt. Remember how much better you felt after opening up to Sully?
The receptionist calls my name, and I follow her back to the office before I can talk myself out of it.
29
Raleigh
The credits roll on the screen, and Callie murmurs in her sleep. Shifting her head from my leg to the flat throw pillow, moving gently so as not to wake her up, I creep out of the living room. Callie’s letting me stay so I don’t have to go back to my parents’ house right away. The spacious guest bathroom is mine for the duration, she told me, evidenced by the laundry basket of clothes in the corner and the toiletries I forgot to put away this morning.
It’s late. Considering the week we’ve had, I should be dozing off with Callie even now. Instead I turn the shower on, standing at the sink for a long time.
Things with Callie are good. Great, even. The sex still blows my mind, and every time I look at her I want more.
It’s not the same.
My eyes are wide and haunted in the mirror. Steam slowly seeps out of the shower, filling the room.
Things are good. We’ve gotten into a rhythm, Callie and me. She and Lucy are busting their asses with Hale House, though they still haven’t hired somebody to replace Finn. My internships are doing well. Working with Coach Zeke feels like I never left, which is pretty weird considering that was middle school. We’re finding our footing there too and I’m already learning a lot. More to the point, I’m glad to be going to work every day, which is a gift I don’t ever want to take for granted.
And yet.
I’ve never understood why people got so spun up over heartbreak. Sure, you feel sad for a while, right? And disappointed or mad or upset. But life goes on.
I didn’t know it felt like this.
Callie puts on a brave face for me; it’s what she does, and I love her more every day for it. But I know she feels it, too—that river of aching shame, the confusion, and the bottomless sense of loss.
Heartbreak.
I try not to think about him at all, not the control, the pushing, the sex, the careful consideration. None of it. Sometimes it works.
What I manage to do is get up every day and tell myself this can’t last forever. He’s not coming back, and that’s the way things go sometimes. I wouldn’t want him if he stayed out of obligation. God knows, Callie deserves better than that. So do I. Someday I hope I’ll be able to think about him, to appreciate what we had, to just be grateful for what he gave me, and the things he helped me learn about myself.
Today is not that day.
