Not maliciously. I wasn't lying to anybody or promising relationships I didn't want. They knew what it was. I knew what it was.
I just hadn't wanted to think too hard about why I was doing it.
Sex made everything go quiet.
For an hour, sometimes two, I didn't think about Archie. I didn't think about ten years of being told I was too fat, too loud, too much.
I could fuck somebody, get tired enough to sleep, wake up, and go make cupcakes.
It worked.
Then Knox came along.
And somehow I stopped calling the other men.
I had traded one kind of quiet for another.
Instead of needing sex to shut my head off, I started needing Grizz nearby.
Bad night? Call Knox.
Couldn't sleep? Knock on Knox's door.
Archie got in my head? Knox.
Scared? Knox.
Hurt? Knox.
Being around him felt so safe that I had started forgetting I needed to know how to feel safe without him.
When I came out of my latest meeting, the first person I saw was her.
Ronny was leaning against her car, arms crossed, sunglasses on. She didn't say anything when I walked up. Just opened the passenger door.
I got in.
We drove in silence. The city moved past the window. I watched it without seeing it.
"You okay?" she asked when we were way down the road.
"Yeah."
"You're lying."
"I'm fine. I really am."
She didn't push. That was the thing about Ronny. She knew when to push and when to wait.
I dropped my bag by the door at her house. Kicked off my shoes. I'd been living with her since I'd arrived.
Her apartment was smaller than her new salary, but Ronny had been here for years. She was a creature of habit. That woman hated change. She liked her routines. She wanted everything the same. Making more money wasn't enough to make her pack all her shit and start over.
It came from a childhood where nothing had ever felt stable. Her father's moods controlled the house, and her mother wasn't much better. Ronny had spent too many years never knowing what version of home she was walking into.
Ronny liked predictable.
I heard heavy footsteps coming from the back.