I want to stomp out of here and not listen to any more of this. Especially when he might have a point.
He places his weights back on the rack. “This stuff takes time. You’ve got to be patient and realize not everyone will disappoint you. Not everyone will break your heart.”
He sounds confident, but I’m not so sure. Everyone I should have trusted broke my heart. First, the man who provided sperm and nothing else. Then, my mom for making so many stupid decisions and also leaving me way too soon. And Melissa, when I was only hangingon by a thread, she snipped that line and left me to drown without looking back.
I don’t want to be patient. I want to know with certainty I won’t end up there again.
He grabs his towel and turns back toward me. “Besides, I’d bet my entire paycheck you haven’t told her a thing about you.”
I grab another set of weights, not wanting to address that. I lunge. He’s right. I haven’t told her anything because I don’t talk about it. Talking about it makes me feel weak and pathetic. I have to relive watching my mom die and not being able to do a damn thing about it.
“Are you done now?” I switch legs.
“Working out, or trying to knock some sense into your hard-ass head?”
I roll my eyes, pushing out a breath. “Both.”
He throws his towel over his shoulder. “I have to get home and call my brother. He’s called three times, so something must be up.”
I almost grin at the irony, finishing up my set. “What was it you were saying about being scared?”
He points at me. “Don’t even. It’s not remotely the same.”
I set the weights on the rack, breathing hard. It’s my turn to place my hands on my hips. “Oh, really. You avoid your family and everything you left behind. That has nothing to do with fear?”
His head lolls to the side. “If you wanted to talk about messed up shit, I’ll raise and re-raise you.”
I only know a little about what Carson left behind, but I can’t say I blame him.
I follow him toward the exit. “So, you have no plans of ever returning to the business your family built?”
Carson’s passion is construction. He’s meant to be amongst wood and finishings, not grease and broken machines.
He shrugs. “I’m not ready. Not sure if I ever will be.”
“Maybe you need to make more than a phone call.”
He stops, turning toward me. I want to smile. I push him just like he pushed me. Payback is a bitch.
“I have something to sort out first. Then, maybe I’ll think about facing my family and finding out if I want to be a part of it again.”
I roll my eyes. Him and his grand plans.
I wish I had a plan. It might be comforting.
I drive home, trying my damndest not to think about everything he said. I stand in my dark living room, staring at the small brick bungalow across the street. A dim light filters through her windows, and I wonder if Sarah is studying.
I could message her and ask, or I could give it time. I debate which is better for my heart.
I’m no good at patience or being smacked with the truth. Carson is right. Sarah doesn’t owe me a thing, and I have to be ok with that. More than that, I have to quit being so afraid. Life is about risks, and if I never take one, I’ll be stuck here forever—scared and lonely, and having absolutely nothing worthwhile to show for it.
I exhale, letting that realization and every jagged edge of it settle uncomfortably. Recognizing and admitting it is one thing. Actually doing something about it is entirely another.
All I know is I’ve got to figure out something better than this.
Chapter 31
SARAH
