Again, Tobias taunted me.
And again, I wanted him.
Guilty and cringing at the thought, I take the road that leads to the townhouse on the cul-de-sac. I haven’t, not once, done the psycho ex-girlfriend drive by, and it’s past time I do.
It’s when my headlights beam on a FOR RENT sign as I approach their house that I feel the thread give a little more.
Anger courses through me as I step out of my running car and walk over to the house, cupping my hands on the window from the porch to peer in. Empty. Not a trace of life. No trace of the memories made here.
All of it’s gone.
On my walk back to my car, I realize the grass is at least a foot tall, which means it’s been vacated for a month or longer. My gut tells me much longer.
Back behind the wheel, I tear down the road, blood thumping at my temple as I try to understand the why of it. Where is Tyler living now? I just saw him so he can’t be far, which means they can’t either. Sean had to know his request for me not to go looking would be too much to ask. And up until now, I’ve honored it because of ‘one day.’
Furious with my findings, I drive through the roads I know by heart intent on getting answers. It’s when I hit the garage parking lot and slam on the brakes that I’m relieved to see the light on in the lobby. A sign of my old life, unchanged. Faint music drifts from behind the garage as Russell walks into view, eyeing me just before I step up to the door and rap on it lightly, knowing he saw me. When it doesn’t open, I knock again, this time much harder.
“Open the door, Russell,” I demand, my heart sputtering with the image of the abandoned house.
Nothing.
“Russell!” I step over and glare at him through the thick lobby window when my knock again goes unanswered. Russell cranes his head to avoid my livid gaze just as Jeremy joins him in the lobby. The second Jeremy sees me, he hangs his head.
“I just want to talk to you,” I plead through the thick glass, knowing they can hear every word. In the next second, the light clicks off and Russell retreats to the garage. Jeremy holds the door to follow, pausing when he hears me speak up.
“Don’t do this,” I beg, pounding on the window. “Please don’t fucking do this to me! Jeremy!” He stops where he stands, and I can see the sincere regret etched in his posture. “Please, Jeremy!” I watch as he cups his jaw in frustration, his eyes never lifting before he walks into the garage. I back away from the window, outraged, and that’s when I come to grips with the truth I’ve been battling all day.
I am an addict.
I’m the pathetic girl who just can’t take a hint, the one who refuses to let go.
If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve seen it in the face of every person who looks at me now—the pity and the concern. Their withdrawal has cost me my pride, my self-respect, and the respect of the people who know me.
It’s cost me far more than any high is worth.
And it’s past time that I remember how to kick…
After draining some of the iced whiskey I helped myself to from one of Roman’s crystal tumblers, I dive in the pool and emerge in the muggy night, the moon half-lit as I take a few laps around loving the feel of the warm water on my skin as I work out some of my aggression.
Frustration runs front and center as I exhaust myself, trying to come up with any reason at all why they would take such great care to disappear. The deceit, the humiliation, I’ve made a fool of myself over two men who haven’t bothered to show up for me in endless months.
And for what? The high?
Now all I feel is the crash, the inevitable burn. I tried for the last few months to convince myself that I was moving on, but in truth, I’ve been waiting.
I will no longer lie to myself, and I can’t keep loving in vain.
Neither of the men I’d pledged my heart to have stepped out of the shadows to claim me.
I was delusional to believe that I had a future with either of them.
How strong could any of their feelings truly be with so much deception between us? What we had was beautiful in my eyes, but over time has been painfully proven to be one-sided.
It’s been a little over eight months since I danced with Sean in the street. Months in which I’ve attempted to live normally. In hindsight, it had felt so real. That’s what kept me hanging on.
But that’s what addicts do, they deny the problem and coat it with excuses. And it’s up to me to save myself.
So, I’m done.
I’m done with my unhealthy fixation on the two men who are undeserving of eight months of unreciprocated devotion. I no longer want to understand their motives or the cruel reasoning for their absence.