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“I nearly lost my life!” I almost shout. “How is that nothing? What if, next time, it’s worse? What if, next time, I do lose?”
Nana’s face softens, but her eyes harden. She leans forward in her chair and points a wrinkly finger at me. “You listen to me, my girl, and you listen to me good. You’re not afraid of committing. You’re not afraid of hurting anyone. The thing you fear is weakness. It’s commendable, really, but also complete crap. The only person you’re hurting is yourself—and this boy. You’re stringing you both along because of your naivety. That’s what it is. What you are. Naïve. You think love pops up for every Tom, Dick, and Harry?”
Her words sting.
“It doesn’t. It isn’t something you can throw around. If you can sit there and tell me it wouldn’t kill you to walk away from him, then that’s exactly what you should do.”
I hug my knees tighter to me. I want to say the words. They’re there, sitting on my tongue, teasing my lips. But they won’t come out.
The thought of saying them twists my heart painfully.
“Well?” she raises penciled-in eyebrows. “I thought as much. You fear weakness because you never want to feel it again, and that’s why you can’t commit. Love makes you weak, Olivia. It makes you weak and it makes you strong at the same time. But the strongest love is the one you accept and embrace. Fight it and you’re destined for weakness.”
My eyes burn with tears, and I swallow hard. “I know,” I whisper. “I know.”
“So why are you fighting it? If you’re so afraid of weakness, why don’t you get off your ass and tell him what you want? I bet he doesn’t even know how you feel, does he?”
I shake my head.
“Flamin’ heck, girl! You’re making a total pig’s asshole of this, aren’t ya?”
I nod. If I talk, the tears will come.
“You need to talk to your young man and tell him how you feel, Olivia. That’s the only way you’ll ever move on. Fuck your fear. Face it and embrace it and you will kick it in its rusty butt.”
I half-laugh, half-sob.
Mom gets up and wraps her arm around my shoulder. “Don’t let the fear of falling in love stop you from basking in the beauty of the possibility. Think about how beautiful it could be, how happy you could be, and go from there.” She kisses my temple. “Come on, Mother. It’s time for your medication.”
Mom gets up and helps Nana up. Nana pauses by the door.
“Olivia.”
I look up and meet her gaze.
“I’m staying in your room. You’ll have to take the spare room.”
I shudder and smile. “Okay, Nana. Thanks for letting me know.”
“You’re welcome. Now, Mare, does that husband of yours have my salmon yet?”
I laugh into my knees as Mom leads her away. She shuts the door behind her, leaving me in the silence of the conservatory. Leaving me with the overwhelming noise of my thoughts.
With the realization of my stupidity.
With the ache of my heart.
Nana’s right. I’m not afraid of love or my addiction—not really. I’m afraid of the product of my addiction, which is weakness. I’ve been strong for so long that spiraling into a place where I’m not strong is terrifying.
That would be easier to swallow if I weren’t already weak. Tyler makes me weak. He makes me want to give everything to him when sometimes I have nothing myself. But maybe I should.
Maybe I should stop being such a fucking idiot and just do it.
An impulsive decision, contradicted by the thought put into it.
We are perfect for each other. In the most nonsensical way, we are. And like he said, waking up to a day where I don’t need him is vomit-inducing. I don’t want to not need him. I don’t want to not have him around, making me laugh, turning me on, teasing me. I don’t want a day where I don’t hear his voice and have it send tingles down my spine.
I want to hear him mutter his dirty words. I want to feel him tie my hands and completely own my body. I want to taste him on my tongue, see his dark eyes that show so much, smell his cologne mix with his natural scent.
