In the wreckage that is my failed love life, I’m the thread weaving each heartbreak together. No more of this. It’s time to reclaim my heart and stop wanting to give it to men who will break it. Everett, Chase, Miles, and even Garrett. Granted, Garrett isn’t like the others, but he’s still all wrong for me. Yet, I stilllikehim.
I look up at a knock on my door. Anker and Garrett are supposed to pick me up by seven. Of course, their type A personalities show up twenty minutes early. I type out a quick goodbye to Catherine and then shuffle to the door.
“Hey,” Garrett says as I swing the door open. His massive frame takes up most of my entryway and blocks the yellowish light from the sconces along the hallway outside my studio.
This isn’t one of the newer buildings in Seal Beach. It’s a two-story brick building with mostly studio and one-bedroom apartments. Its closeness to downtown, the bus stop for me to get to the university, and being owned by friends of my parents—who I am pretty sure are giving me a significant cut on rent—makes it ideal for me. Not to mention, its nod to the art deco architecture style from the 1920s gives it this whimsical fancy I adore. My only complaint is the lack of closet space for my shoes.
“Hey.” I shift foot-to-foot. “Where’s Anker?”
“I haven’t picked him up yet. I came here first.”
“How’d you get into my building?”
“I held the door for an older woman with an unruly pug, and then followed her in.”
“You broke in?” I tilt my head.
“Yeah… What were you talking about last night?” His low base is husky as if he’s been up all night.
“What?”
“You said you weren’t talking about Miles. What were you talking about?”
“It’s not important.” I wave my hand.
“It is important.”
I want to double down on my lie and say it’s nothing, but I can’t. The intensity of his stare crawls inside me, causing an electric charge to pulse in my veins like that moment before you jump into the deep end.
“My vision loss.” I jut my chin towards him.
“I knew it… I’m an asshole.” He rakes his left hand into his chestnut hair.
“You didn’t know.” I tuck a loose strand of hair from my messy bun behind my ear.
“Because I didn’t listen. I just reacted and cut you off. You were just trying to help, and I?—”
“Don’t want my help.” I fiddle with the hem of my sweater. “You’re more the helper than the being helped type.”
“Doctors make terrible patients, after all,” he mutters.
“That they do.” My mouth lifts in a small smile.
“We share that trait. We both prefer being the helper versus the helpee.”
“Is that even a word?” I laugh. “But you’re right. Neither of us are comfortable in the being taken care of role. Though, I may have overstepped.”
“As I do all the time with you.” He sighs. “I mean, I did drag you back to my house at ten o’clock at night for some textbook self-help bullshit, as you called it.”
“I don’t think I called it bullshit exactly.” I arch one eyebrow. “But, yes, you did… In turn, I needled you to talk about Val.”
“We do like to get into each other’s shit, don’t we?” A soft chuckle resonates in his chest.
“It appears so.” My rigid stance softens with each gentle beat of his chuckle.
And just like that, here we are again. Only, it’s less we and more me. I’m pretty sure for Garrett, this is just the ebb and flow of our relationship. But I don’t want that relationship anymore, and I don’t want to keep having feelings for inappropriate men.
“Except I’m going to do something about my shit.” I point to myself. “I’m going on a romantic sabbatical until I figure out why I keep falling for men who don’t want me. At least in the way I deserve to be wanted.”
