“Coffee? Yes.”
“Okay.” He got out, and it took me a moment to realize he’d just invited himself over. With a sigh, I got out and walked with him toward my house, trying to act as if I wasn’t in pain, though he’d already figured it out.
“I’ll stay here if you prefer,” he said once we reached the porch.
I was about to invite him in, but then realized what a few minutes of privacy could mean. “Okay, I’ll bring the coffee out. I just need to use the toilet first.”
“Do you remember how I take mine?”
“A lot of milk and sugar.”
“No, it’s—”
“I remember, Hayden.”
I opened the door and closed it behind me. Once inside the bathroom, I reached into the laundry bag and grabbed the small box of needles. There wasn’t much time, but I needed to release some of my anxiety if Hayden was going to shower me with questions—which he was bound to do.
I sat on the toilet and raised my short sleeve, then took a deep breath and inserted a needle into my flesh—deeper than intended. I yelped at the sharp pain, watching as blood began to trickle down my arm. I grabbed a towel and placed it under the needle to soak up the blood.
Peace followed, untangling the knots in my chest. I wished to stay like this longer, to bleed my worries out, but the last thing I wanted was to make Hayden even more suspicious. I carefully pulled the needle out, washed away the blood, and put a band-aid over the puncture mark.
In the kitchen, I quickly made Hayden’s coffee—black with half a spoon of sugar. When I stepped outside, the breeze cooled my flushed face.
“Thanks.” He took the cup and narrowed his eyes at me, but didn’t comment. I’d only used the needles once during our relationship, and I never told him. I’d kept many things from him, though it was starting to change.
I sat next to him on the bench. We had spent many evenings like this, watching the sunset before going inside to eat or to have sex.
“I missed your view,” he said, steam rising from his cup.
“How’s Maya?” I asked, playing my part in this polite exchange.
“Still in Phoenix, but she’s doing well. Just turned eight. She asked about you a few weeks ago.Where’s Curly, Daddy?”
I smiled despite myself. “Say hi from me. Are things okay with your ex-wife?”
Hayden shrugged and took a sip of coffee. “She’s still with that douche of a husband who gets to play father more than me, but we don’t argue at least.”
Hayden was three years younger than me and used to be married to his high school sweetheart back in Phoenix. They’d ended up in LA after Hayden got a job with the LAPD, but when he came out as bi, she left him. She found out she was pregnant shortly after, but they decided it would be best for him to stay in LA.
Hayden finished his coffee and put the cup on the ground. “You’re wounded.”
“I’m fine.”
“Is it your ribs?”
“Let it go, Hayden.”
He nodded. “Then let’s cut to the chase. I still need answers.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Start with telling me where Nick is.”
“Where I was fourteen years ago.”
“Which is?”
“I don’t know. They never told me.”
