Shit.
Fuck!
Why couldn’t she just let me wallow in this shit by myself like I wanted, instead of dragging her down with me?
“Thank you,” she says quietly as she takes a step toward our bedroom door. “I asked you to be honest, and you were.”
“Blue, I—”
She glances over her shoulder. “No, it’s fine. Really. It’s better that I know how you feel.”
I stand, gritting my teeth through the discomfort. “I only mean that—”
“West, I can’t do this right now.”
When she faces me again, her eyes are redder, completely flooded, and if I didn’t already hate myself, I would now.
“I heard you,” she says. “You think I’m impressed by this lifestyle, or in the very least you think I’m beholden to it, but… all I’ve ever wanted… is you, West. And if you can’t see that, maybe you’re right. No one can help us.”
She leaves, closing the door behind her, and it feels like there are a million miles between us.
Only now do I even hear the television again, and it’s more of the same—a new reporter’s segment, but he’s spouting the same bullshit about me.
That I should’ve stayed in Sacramento.
That there’s a target on my back that has any opponent I face hungry to dethrone me.
That whatever surgery lies ahead for me will probably be more extensive than the last with a harsher recovery.
That there are already reports that I’m losing endorsements.
And I can’t take another fucking thing going wrong.
My mind’s a blur, and all I can think about is how I’m losing everything.Everything.Rage pulses through my veins and the next thing I feel is a burn in my knuckles as the drywall beside the TV smashes beneath my fist.
I can hardly breathe as I stare at the hole. I’ve thought I’d found my breaking point before, but I was wrong. This…this…is my breaking point, and I’m on the verge of giving it all up.
All of it.
Just to maybe reclaim some shred of my sanity.
But there’s something that terrifies me more than losing my career, more than being alone, more than disappointing everyone I love.
And that’s the fact that, as I stand here imagining it, fist-deep in a wall, the thought of giving up the fight—everyfight—is almost… a relief.
I slump to the floor, doing my best to ignore the voices on the TVandthe one in my head, all telling me I’m nothing. But then I hearhervoice—Blue’s—making it clear that she’s never wanted anything from me but me.
And as I replay all the shitty things I just said to her, things I can never take back, I think I’ve proven something valuable to myself today…
I’m an even bigger fuck-up than I give myself credit for.
Chapter Twelve
West
The waiting room’s empty, and the silence only amplifies the distance between me and Blue. There’s a seat between us where she’s placed her purse, and with the tension piling up against us, separating herself from me is clearly intentional.
Her body language says a lot, too—legs crossed away from me, foot bouncing impatiently, eyes glued to her phone. She doesn’t want to be here, which in turn makes me wish she wasn’t. It’s stressful enough dealing with this shit, waiting to hear what the orthopedic surgeon has to say about my shoulder. Meanwhile, my wife would rather be anyplace else.
