Michael was just different.
It was just an intuitive feeling. I hated that Kristina had probably felt the same way about Jason. It was just the reaction that there was something about him that made me feel like Michael wasn’t violent, at least not to women.
And it wasn’t like he’d asked me out on a date in this message. It wasn’t even like he’d asked me to anything in this message. He’d just thanked me.
Just.
I was pretty sure Jason had not done that. In fact, I knew Jason had not done that. Every time that Kristina talked about Jason, she’d say how he was so bossy and dramatic.
“Hey, Michael, thanks for inviting me out.”
I wrote those words out, but I sat on them for what felt like a good couple of minutes, trying to decide if that was how I wanted to rephrase my response. Eventually, I just hit send. What was I doing? The only time I acted this way, being so utterly precise with my words, was when I liked someone.
I put the phone down and went to the kitchen to start preparing food. I needed something mindless and time-consuming to take me away from something I didn’t need to be mindful of.
But after cracking just three eggs and laying out some blueberries for an oatmeal mix, I was already feeling pulled back to the room, back to my phone, to see if he’d responded.He’s a biker. He’s not going to respond this early. He works afternoons and evenings.
But do you even know when he sent the most recent message? What if it was at some point this morning?
What the hell are you doing, Kaitlyn?
“Ugh,” I groaned out loud, giving in to the desire to check my phone.
I walked back in and checked. No response. Of course not—I’d sent the previous message less than five minutes ago. And on top of that, Michael had sent the original message after one in the morning.
And then the bubble popped up that showed he was responding, and as if captured by a hypnotist, I stared at the phone, waiting to see what he said. Maybe he, too, hadn’t slept much. Or maybe he’d sent the message just before going to bed.
Stop thinking this. He’s not going to be anything, remember?
“Of course. Would you like to meet up soon?”
The immediate reaction was one of hope and excitement. But the one that followed right after was a sinking feeling, the kind that reminded me why meeting up with him was a bad idea. I stared at the phone, my thumbs just barely hovering over the keyboard, when I heard something flame up in the kitchen.
“Oh, shit!”
Fortunately, it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed, and I quickly removed the pan from the stovetop to prevent a far greater disaster from occurring. Granted, my eggs had been ruined, but I still had my oatmeal and blueberries.
“Okay, get it together, Kaitlyn, come on.”
You need space. You need time to figure this out.
I knew what I needed to write.
I went back into my bedroom, typed “I’ll answer in a few days,” and left it at that.
Even if I had a feeling I already knew what the answer would be.
Patriot
Ishouldn’t have been awake so early in the morning.
But, then again, there were a lot of things that I wish weren’t the case that actually were. I didn’t know if that was a common thing for former soldiers, but for me, it was like a virus that just never left. I could not get “the should haves” out of my head, and I definitely could not get it out of my dreams.
And last night was no different.
I’d gone to bed around two in the morning, as I usually did. I had gone straight home after leaving Lane, so it wasn’t like I’d drank myself to sleep, though that had certainly happened before. I also hadn’t drugged myself to sleep, which had also happened in the past.
Maybe I should have done it, because as soon as I slipped into sleep, I found myself wishing I could do anything to get out of the sequence that had become so familiar I could recount it in exact detail the next morning.
