Page 96 of Addiction

I check myself over in the mirror, and anxiety flutters in my stomach at the thought of seeing him again. But when I open the door, I’m not prepared for the air to leave my lungs and desire to race through as strongly as it does.

He’s in dark, skinny, ripped jeans and a black shirt that has the first few buttons at the top open, giving me a taste of what I know hides underneath. His hair once again seems to be a controlled mess and, I have to fight the urge to run my fingers through it. But what I’m finding more intense than his dark eyes is the silence between us. Where it was once comfortable, now I’m unsure. I can’t read him.

“Hey,” I murmur. “Thanks for coming.”

His only response is a soft smile.

I open the door wider. “Do you want to come in?”

“Sure.”

His body wash makes my skin prickle for all the right reasons as he passes, and I give myself a few seconds to get it together before I follow him inside.

“Do you want a drink or anything?”

“No. I’m fine.”

I nod, hooking my thumb over my shoulder toward the door. “Mom is at work, so it’s just us.”

“I gathered.” He takes a seat on the couch and rests his elbows on his knees. “How have you been?”

“Well, I’m sober,” I joke. The anxiety I’d just felt is now full-blown nerves as he’s making me more on edge than I was.

“Mark has been keeping me up to date with news of the gym. It’s good that business is increasing by the week.”

“Yeah.”

I look at him hesitantly. “I hear he’s filled you in on the reasons for my relapse.”

“Yeah, he has. And how are things going?”

“Good. I’m getting there.” A beat of silence falls between us, and I realize I’m finding communicating with him a lot harder than I’d expected it to be. “Look, Wade—”

“I’m sorry. I should never have pushed you.”

I exhale a heavy breath. “No, you shouldn’t have. It was wrong of you to behave in the way you did by trying to get me to talk.”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s not lost on me that the last time I saw Wade, I’d pinned him up against a wall in aggression before drowning my sorrows.

I want our friendship to not be ruined because of my actions.

I want to see what the future holds for both of us because I believe there is one.

I want to not live my life behind lies anymore.

I want him.

I run my fingers through my hair, not knowing where to start. “I was confused.”

“You and me both.” He stands, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Was it because of me that you relapsed?”

What?

How can he possibly think that my downfall was all because of him?

“You think you are the reason?”