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I don’t have that. Apart from my own fears, I have no reason to walk away from that gorgeous man. I have no reason to turn away and run from the man who sets my body on fire with an unnatural ease.
I have no reason to give up the person who’s made me feel more alive than I have in years.
I know in my heart that my walking away just now was irrational. It was stupid and impulsive, and if I didn’t think it would hurt, I’d slap myself fucking silly for it.
Because he didn’t deserve that. He deserved a “Let me think about it and get back to you. What are we doing now?” Not a giant, metaphorical “Fuck you!”
I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot and a fool and a giant, raging fucking bitch.
I’m flightier than a bird ready to migrate. I’m giving myself whiplash with my own indecision over what I want, so fuck only knows how Tyler feels. Back and forth, back and forth… In my mind, it’s a never-ending circle of what-ifs and trepidation. It’s a foundation of anxiety and fear.
And I have to make a choice—sooner or later, I’ll have to stop running. I’ll have to face up to the dangers my addiction poses to both me and others and deal with them.
I told Tyler that I trust him, but I don’t. Not really. If I did, I wouldn’t have run out of that restaurant like someone had doused my pants in gas and set me alight.
Maybe now is the time to stop running. Maybe now is the time to step back and face up to the fears that are slowly creeping out.
Maybe now is the time to be honest with myself.
My name is Olivia Warren. I’m an addict. I’m addicted to love and I’m addicted to the same person I fall in love with. I’m tempted and allured by their voice and their touch, and eventually, I will crave them. Body and soul. And I’m running because, once upon a time, my addiction nearly cost me my life.
But now, I’m aware of it. And I can control it. So I’m not running anymore.
I’m eventually going to crave Tyler Stone—body and soul. I’m going to trust a man I probably shouldn’t, and I’m going to give in to the wild temptation running rampant through my veins.
“A date? You have a date?”
“There’s no need to sound so surprised, Mom. It happens occasionally.” I drop back onto the sofa and prop my feet on the coffee table.
“It hasn’t happened for three years, Olivia.”
“Precisely. Once every three years is occasionally.”
She sighs, her heavy breath crackling down the phone. “And do you know this man? Or is he someone you just met?”
Oh, we know each other. “He’s Aaron’s cousin. You know, Day’s fiancé.”
“Oh, well that makes a difference. If he’s Dayton approved, I’m sure he’s a good guy.”
A good guy with a penchant for a little light bondage and a mini vibrator.
“Day hasn’t exactly…approved…him. More like she’s waiting and seeing.”
“Olivia. Is he a dangerous man? With bad connections? You see them all the time on the television.”
“Um, you watch too much TV, Mom.” I cough to disguise my laugh. “No, he’s not a secret mass murderer or something. He’s just… Well, Tyler. Besides, it’s only one date.”
“Only one date? That in itself—”
“Is dangerous, I know. I have a handle on my crap now, okay? I’m not a kid anymore. I’m twenty-five,” I huff. “Like I said, it’s only one date. Plus, it’s to a company party and I can’t turn up there without a date. How silly would I look?”
Silence lingers for a long moment. “I suppose. I do worry about you though, darling. That last man you were seeing wasn’t suitable at all. Perhaps your judgment is skewed. Maybe you should come home this weekend instead.”
I take a deep breath. I understand her worry—I do. I understand her desire to tie me up in bubble wrap and keep me safe. Since they moved farther in-state, her mama bear instincts have gone fucking crazy.
“Momma, listen to me. Tyler is a good guy. I can cope with my issues.” The word leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, because really, my addictive personality isn’t an issue in itself. “A year of therapy teaching me to recognize my triggers has me pretty freakin’ sorted out.”
And what bullshit therapy it was. I was forced into it. After they had done a psychiatric exam, they’d determined what my issue was—what my addiction was, is. My doctors decided that I needed to learn my triggers. My weak points. My soft spots.
