Page 109 of Heal Me, Love Me

“I get why. Your shoulder hurts, and flying across the country right now would be a pain in the ass. Plus, you need to get through PT first.”

“I do.”

“I understand,” I told him. It wasn’t a lie. I did understand, and that was the worst part. His reasons made sense, but none of them changed how it felt for me.

“Then why does it sound like you’re mad at me?”

I kept my attention on the river. “Because part of me is.”

“For getting hurt?”

“No.” I turned my head toward him. “For not wanting to come badly enough to make it happen.”

He didn’t answer right away, and I wished I could take back what I’d said, but the words were true whether I wanted them to be or not.

After a beat, he said, “I do want to.”

“Then come.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Make it sound easy so I’m the asshole for not getting on a plane.”

I rubbed a hand over my mouth and forced myself to stop before I made it worse. “I’m not trying to make you the asshole.”

“But that’s where your head is going.”

“Yeah, that’s where my head is going, and I hate it because I just want you there.”

He faced forward again, and I let the silence sit between us for a few seconds before I spoke.

“It feels too much like leaving for Florida all over again,” I admitted. “Me going, you staying here. I know it isn’t the same because you’re hurt, but part of me still wants you to want this badly enough to find a way to come.”

“I do want you.” His voice roughened like he hated that I doubted it. “I want tacos and beaches and kissing you at sunset. I want to be there with you, doing normal couple shit without feeling like we have to hide in your room. I just can’t get on a plane right now.”

I wanted to believe him, but all I could see was that I was going back to Tampa and he was choosing to stay in Sacramento. “It still feels like you don’t want it enough.”

His free hand moved to the strap of his sling. “That’s not what this is.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

“I don’t want to go there like this. I don’t want you watching every move I make, waiting for me to hurt myself. I don’t want you rearranging your life because I’m sore or tired or pissed off that everyone around me can train and I can’t.” His hand dropped back to his lap. “And I don’t want my time there with you to be about my shoulder.”

“I wouldn’t care.”

“But I would. I’m not staying here because I don’t want to be with you. I just don’t want to visit you under these circumstances,” he added.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“I’m trying to.”

He reached across the console and touched my arm. “I want to come. I need you to know that.”

I looked down at his hand. “But you don’t know when.”