Page 34 of Unbearable
It’s around four in the morning when I’m driving back from her dorm and I know I’m not getting any sleep tonight. All I can think about is her and her telling me that she loves me. The more I think about it the more I believe it because I know despite her being drunk, she knew what she was saying, and Raven rarely says anything she doesn’t mean.
What do I do now?
I’m completely aware that the right thing to do is to pull back knowing her feelings are getting too deep, but I’m a selfish bastard at heart and the thought of letting her go isn’t something I’m willing to entertain. As it is, I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around everything this woman makes me feel. I know why, deep down, this is a struggle for me, but I’m not ready to put my feelings out there just yet.
Sitting at my kitchen table, my thoughts on the night are still buzzing loudly in my brain.
I finally decide to shower and head downstairs to get a head start on the day. Maybe keeping my hands busy will help drown out the battle going on in my head.
Grabbing my keys and phone from the table on the way out, I notice that Raven must have texted me while I was in the shower.
Raven: Sorry about last night. Thanks for saving me.
Staring at her message, I realize I can’t text her back. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not because I don’t want to, but because I’m afraid if I do, I’ll say something I’m going to regret and lead her on even more.
I’M NOT SURE what my problem is but weeks have gone by and I still haven’t talked to Raven. We’re approaching Thanksgiving and maybe it’s because I didn’t reply to her message or she feels guilty about that night but she doesn’t text me either and she hasn’t come home on the weekends.
I know she’s coming for Thanksgiving and the fact that I’m going to see her soon has me sort of amped and on edge at work.
I’m counting down the hours in the day so I can get the hell out of here when Berkley shows up at the shop wearing skin-tight jeans and black leather boots up to her knees.
Typical of her. Always trying to gain attention.
“What are you doing here?” I don’t look at her when she leans against my toolbox. I have a car I’m working on and the last thing I need is to get distracted. Besides, I knowwhyshe’s here wearing that outfit. She’s looking to hook up. “If you’re looking for Rawley, check the parts room.”
“Can’t I come by and check onyou?”
I shrug, quirking an eyebrow at her to see that Red’s watching us. “Well, youcouldbut you made it clear you’ve moved on. Why keep stopping by?”
“Tyler.” There’s a long sigh that escapes her, one I’ve come to know is her being frustrated with me. It’s like the wind, you know it’s coming, you hear the howling, you’re just waiting for the gust to hit your face. “You don’t have to be an asshole.”
I laugh. “I can be anything I want to be.”
Despite my laugh, it’s like a knife to my chest that she can pretend like we’re friends.
I swallow, the action forced because I just want to scream at her for all the pain she’s caused me. She’s one of the reasons why I can’t give Raven everything she needs. “I think it’s best for both of us if you walk away before I say something I’m going to regret.”
She doesn’t listen, nothing new, and steps forward to stand near the car I’m bent over replacing a fuel filter on. “I know the break up was hard on both of us but you have to understand where I was coming from.”
With both hands on the fender, I shake my head slowly. “Go, Berkley. Just get the fuck out of here.” My voice is sharp and she knows I’m not fucking around. She needs to leave.
When she does, her heals clicking against the concrete floor, a memory flashes in my head, the night I found out who she really was. It’s also the night I hooked up with Raven but it started with the news where my reality crashed down on me by my mother of all people.
“Why did you break up?”
“She decided she wanted something else, I guess. I’m not sure. She lost the baby and then I came home to her moving out.”
“Berkley was pregnant?”
“Yeah, like a few weeks or something.”
My mother frowns. “Is there any chance that Berkley may have been lying to you about being pregnant?”
“What? No, why would you ask that?”
“Because there’s something you should know.” She shifts her gaze to the kitchen floor which tells me whatever she’s going to tell me is important. “When you were ten and the doctors were finally able to stabilize your epilepsy with the Tegretol, we were so grateful; we really didn’t think about anything but you being able to live a normal life. As you got older and it became obvious that you were going to need to continue taking the medication long-term, the doctors informed us that prolonged exposure to Tegretol had been shown to cause some patients to become sterile. They said it wasn’t a definite but that when you were older, you should get tested.”
She raises her gaze to meet mine and there is a mixture of pain and fear in her eyes. “You may want to go and get tested because there is a good chance that if Berkley was pregnant, the baby was never yours.”
