Page 43 of Endless Depths

Morgan

PRESENT DAY

Streetlights glitter on rain puddles.Cars splash water from the gutters. Drizzle provides a decent cover, but I stick to the shadows of the building across from our loft, back grazing the brick wall.

Seattle is a small town of a city. The commercial fishing circle is even smaller. All the bars Cole and I used to frequent know us. The barman at Midaft called to warn me that Cole caught a ride home with a stranger he drank with. I should have told him Cole and I are no longer together, but I didn’t.

Cole refuses to talk, doesn’t leave the loft, even orders his groceries in. The last month has been the longest we’ve ever gone without talking, and I’m desperate.

In a family of addicts, I thought I was an outlier, somehow able to avoid the cycle of misery, but I’m as afflicted as the rest of them. Instead of heroin, Cole is my addiction. I’m in withdrawal and I’ll die if I don’t get my fix. I’ll do anything. Break the law. Risk my life. My sanity.

What if he doesn’t come home? What if he stays out all night? What if he invites him inside? What if he’s moved on?

A black car pulls up at the corner of the bookstore across the street from our building. Cole gets out, looking so fucking cuddlyin a dark blue Bering Sea hoodie with a fishing boat beneath a night sky full of stars on the front.

I hold my breath. Will the other man join him?

Cole plants his palm on the roof of the car and bends to speak through the open window. Then he steps back, and the car pulls away, leaving him looking straight at me like he knew I was there all along.

“Really, Morgan?”

He shakes his head and crosses the street. He’s limping more than the last time I saw him. Maybe the drop in temperature? Navigating the icy deck and spending hours in the captain’s seat on rough seas is going to set his recovery back.

“Go home, Morgan.”

“You’re right. Let’s go.”

I wait for a gap in traffic and follow him around the corner of our building to the back stairs. Cole ambushes me and shoves me against the brick wall. We’re both breathing fast like we just had a marathon fuck, but there’s no pleasure here, no satisfying release. Just raindrops lashing my bare skin, saturating my clothes, sinking sadness into my bones.

“You’re stalking me now?” Cole asks. “What would Dr. Evans think?”

I know exactly how unhealthy Dr. Evans would say my behavior is because I never stopped going to marriage counseling.

“Who the fuck were you with?” I ask.

He laughs. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

The fraying rope of my control snaps, and I swap our positions so fast he looks lost, like he doesn’t know how we got here. I don’t know how we got here either.

“Fuck that. You’re my husband.” I graze my thumb over the pulse point in his neck, blending our heartbeats. “Mine.” I capture his chin, forcing his gaze on me. “I don’t give a fuck how bad things are between us, you don’t kiss anyone else. You don’t touch anyone else. You don’t fuck anyone else. If you need to get off, you call me. Only I take care of you.”

I shouldleave him alone, leave before I break us more than we’re already broken, but I’m feening for my fix. I’ll do whatever it takes, even this.

“I don’t want you to take care of me,” Cole says, stubble on his cheek glittering as his jaw clenches beneath my fingertips. “I don’t want you to save me. I don’t want you.”

“Bullshit, Sunshine. I’ve known you my entire life. I know when you’re lying. I know you.”

His eyes harden. His chin lifts in defiance. “People change. I’m not the person you knew. I’m not the person you loved. I’m not the person who loved you.”

Rejection burns through me like acid injected into my veins.

“I’m so fucking sick of fighting for us, for fighting for you when you won’t fight for me at all. Fucking fight for me!” I flatten my palm over his heart and press him against the wall, scanning his face as his heart thumps like a countdown to the end of us. But there’s nothing there, only the emotions he couldn’t hide before, now locked behind a wall. “Maybe you’re a stranger after all.”

“Glad you finally figured it out.”

Fear burns bright, so bright it engulfs me. Fear of the death of our relationship, fear of what happens next because I believe him. He finally crushed my remaining hope.

“I guess we’re done then,” I say.