“Thank you,” I whisper. “Hey, Terrance?”
He pauses and turns to me. “What’s up?”
“Do you think you could be my sponsor?”
He smiles. “I’d like that.”
I return the smile and stand. I leave a twenty on the bar and walk out to my car. Main Street is quiet, the lamps paleand flickering, but a few bright and yellow. Cicadas sing and there’s a summer breeze, and I get behind the wheel to go home to her.
Without turning on the radio, the only sound is the hum of my engine as I turn left onto our road and allow myself to sit in the silence. The emptiness in my ears makes this feel so much more urgent because I just want to get to the house, strip off my clothes, and get into bed beside her and sleep.
Finally, I pull into the driveway beside her Jeep, and rush into the house. I let myself in, toe off my shoes, and it’s dark. Quiet.
Of course she’s asleep, she wakes up early every day, she needs rest. I lock the front door, double check it’s security, and walk toward the back door where the moon light is flooding into the kitchen and seating area.
Sighing, I sit on the sectional and lean forward with my elbows on my knees, burying my face in my hands. “Fuck,” I groan, pressing my heels into my eyes.
I didn’t do it.
I’m not a shit person because of my past. I’m a better person for leaving my past where it belongs. I didn’t do it, and I’m proud of myself for it. So why does it feel like this? Like I should’ve drank it even if I didn’t want to.
“Where were you?” she asks quietly, worry dripping from her tone in a way that digs talon in my heart.
I pick up my head to find her in her usual pajamas of an oversized shirt and shorts with her hair loose, cascading down to her ribs. Her eyes are soft, her brows slightly pinched in concern, and I don’t deserve any of it.
I shake my head. “Nowhere important.”
She takes a step. “You didn’t…”
I shake my head again. “I didn’t.”
“Terrance called me,” she says softly, and for the first time, that soft tone isn’t comforting. “He was worried.”
“Yell at me,” I say, defeated. “Please. Be mad at me.”
“I’m not going to do that.” Lana takes a few steps forward, leaving about two feet between us, but it feels like a hundred. “I’m not going to make you feel worse than you already do.”
“You should,” I croak.
“But you didn’t do it,” Lana says firmly and stands between my knees, lifting my chin with her delicate fingers until I’m looking right at her.
Her fingers rake through my hair, pushing back the messy strands, and my eyes flutter shut. “What happened tonight, Christian?” she asks softly.
My head drops forward onto her stomach. “I don’t know,” I choke.
Her nails are scratching my head and it feels so good that it hurts. It’s comfort I don’t deserve and safety I haven’t earned. She’s holding me in the dark, no one else in the world but us right here, and I think I might be okay eventually.
“Christian?”
My arms go around her thighs and backside, holding her to me, and I keep my face buried into her stomach.
I shake my head and she whispers, “Okay. Okay, later.”
I nod and pull her in closer. Hold her tight enough that I’m not sure she can breathe, but I hear the air filling her lungs and the beat of the blood rushing through her body.
“You’re okay,” Lana whispers, her nails running along my head and down my nape. “You’re okay.”
I cough quietly to clear out the knot in my throat. “It was… It was just a test,” I rasp. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
