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“Truth be told, I actually like nasty vanilla cake with fake sweet icing because I never got any cakes growing up. And what’s more, I have a lot of baggage to unpack, so you shouldn’t get saddled with it. I’m an eternal pessimist, and I’ve always thought dancing in the rain was stupid, so there. I’m lousy soulmate material, and we’ve already decided that soulmates can exist while apart, so I really need to go.”
After her spiel, she walks off, leaving me in the kitchen with my mouth hanging open, too shocked, stupefied, and stupid to go after her even though I realize I drove her because she took a cab downtown earlier. I should offer her a ride by running out there and making her accept. I should…I need to go after her. I need to refute every single one of those claims.
But will she listen? Or does she need time? If so, how much time? How does one fight for something, for someone one wants? Normally this is why I say I don’t do relationships. Because they’re confusing, messy, scary, complicated, and yes, because there’s usually too much baggage to unpack, and it’s just too much.
Still standing there like a dumbass glued to the floor, I reach into my pocket and pull out the necklace. The damn thing is glowing fiercely. With a grunt, I curl my hand around it and stuff it back in my pocket.
I can’t give up. I’m not ready to quit.
I might not be ready for a full-blown relationship, but there’s nothing saying we can’t take it slow and get to know each other. Be friends, like I said. I can’t imagine sticking myself in the friendzone, but if Lindy is my soulmate, I want to respect her, get to know her, and treat her right. The way she deserves to be treated, unlike the way she was treated in the past.
I can give Lindy time if that’s what she needs.
But thinking about time makes me panic. She said she was renting her house in cash and that she fled Seattle and was laying low. What if…what if she just packs up and leaves in the middle of the night, and I have no idea where she is? What if I can’t find her? What if the best hacker or PI in the world can’t find her?
I rush outside, but like the first time I saw her leaping out my window and flying off the garage, Lindy’s already gone off down the street and is nowhere in sight.
I head for my car before I realize what I’m doing. This isn’t giving her time or space. In fact, this might be the biggest disaster ever. I don’t want to force myself on her, but I need her to know that all those reasons she gave me aren’t reasons that will drive me away. She needs to know that. Then, after that, I’ll leave it up to her.
I’ll do something I’ve never done and put my trust in her.
CHAPTER 12
Lindy
After today, I’m not sure where I’m at in any direction.
Other than Lisa and my online therapist, Kirian is the only person I’ve ever told about Phil. I have no idea why I blurted it out the way I did. And thanking him for eating my pussy out on his counter? Good god and butter biscuits. Could it get any more humiliating? I had to leave after that for so many reasons. It wasn’t like I could tell Kirian all about my past and then ask him if he wanted to go for round two of more sexy time. The regular me would not go for any round of sexy time, including the one I had, but then when I was being shown new galaxies on Kirian’s countertop, I realized all the therapy and work I’ve done and just the time that has passed really helped me. I think I was just scared.
Scared to move forward.
Scared of what it would mean if I did go further than vanilla with anyone.
Scared of the same thing Kirian’s scared of—strings, commitment, and relationships.
I’ve never had a single good example of a relationship that worked out because, for the most part, I was raised in fairly dysfunctional settings. My mom went to prison, and I’ve never seen her since the day they took her from us, which was a very long time ago. If she’s out, I don’t know about it since she’s never tried to find us or make contact.
None of the homes I was ever in were decent, let alone good examples of two adult people who loved each other. Even when we were in a home with the classic male and female dynamic, and not just one person ‘looking’ after us, it was hardly a healthy relationship. At best, I could always sense the tension in the household, and worst case, there were full-blown fights with screaming, things being broken, and doors being slammed. There was one couple, Charlene and Daryl Ratford, and they were the worst. Lisa and I only stayed with them for a few months, but it was a few months too many. Daryl was an alcoholic, and he’d get physical with Charlene all the time. Thankfully, he never laid a hand on us kids, but I guess he was afraid to damage us in any way, considering we were basically his paycheck, and he wanted beer more than he wanted to take his rage out on us.
