Bait (Wake, #1)(83)

I choked a little, that remark had stung, but he didn't know why. He had no reason to feel obtuse about it, like I did.

“It's my wedding date.”

His jaw ticked. And he deflated back into the seat, pressing harder on the gas petal.

“Congratulations,” he said and we didn't speak again for rest of the drive.

We didn't joke.

We didn't laugh.

I was trapped in my head, and he was trapped in my heart. We were both trapped in that little silver hybrid.

He pulled right up to the curb, but didn't get out. I sat and waited for him to say something. Minutes ticked away, until he put the car in park.

“Say something,” I said.

He turned toward me and gave me a weak smile.

“I don't know what you want me to say. I don't know what you want me to do,” he shouted. “I hate this. I hate that you're marrying him. I hate it, Blake! It. Fucking. Sucks. You. Fucking. Suck.”

“I suck!?” I yelled back. Our voices booming in the small space. “Yeah, you know what? I know I suck. I f*cked up. I f*cked it all up. What did you want me to do?” I asked, trying to lower my voice so that the people walking around outside of the entrance didn't hear.

“I wanted you to tell me you wanted me. Me, Blake. Me!” He hit the steering wheel. “But you never did. You never would. You never will. And I don't know why.”

“What? Where is this coming from? You never wanted a relationship.” I stopped myself before adding you just wanted to f*ck. I remembered how he set me straight the last time I'd accused him of wanting to f*ck-and-run.

“How do you know? I never had the option,” he said, the timbre of his words softer.

“You did, too,” I said under my breath.

He looked at me, but I couldn't see his eyes.

“Take these motherf*ckers off!” I lunged at his glasses and threw them on the dash. Under there was a storm brewing. Green and blue clashing. “There. Now, look at me.”

“I don't know what I should have done differently. I don't know where I misled you. Or why you'd think that I wouldn't. I don't talk to anyone like I talk to you. I don't laugh with anyone like I laugh with you. I don't...” he scrambled for the right word, “God! I haven't had sex with anyone since you. Don't you know that? Don't you know I wanted you?”

“Wanted.”

“I still want you. I always want you. But you want whatever it is that you get from him more. So, it is what it is. Or was. Or what-the-f*ck-ever.” He faced front again. “Micah is waiting for you. Visiting hours are almost over.”

“I think you suck, too,” I added, knowing that the right time to say that had passed, but it had to be said.

We sat there again.

“Let me get my bags out.”

“I'll take them to Cory and Micah's. Just go.”

There really wasn't much more to say. Or there was but we were both too bull-headed to do it. Bull-headed or scared.

So, I left.

The discussion was over.





Sunday, April 26, 2009


SO, I LEFT.

And then I left again. I didn't have to work, but I couldn't be in town. I wouldn't be able to hide from her. I was sure we'd run into each other at the hospital. I'd called Cory that night as I re-packed a fresh bag and told him I was leaving.

“Why don't you finally stick around and fight for her,” he'd said.

“She doesn't want me to.”

“How does she know? I don't think she knows what she wants because you've never shown her what she could have. Man, you chased this girl all over the country for the last year, but you never came out and told her what you really wanted. What was she supposed to think? For a year, you pretended like it was okay she was with this other dude, and now it’s not. That’s convenient.”

“I've got to go,” I told him. I knew on some level that he was right, but f*ck him for saying it after it was too damn late.

“You do that. Come see your Godson when you get home. And your mom. You can't run all the time.”

His words were spot on. Run. That was what I was doing, but I honestly didn’t know how to stay.

He was irritated at me and had every right to be. I didn't know what else to do.

I flew to St. Louis. It was the next flight out when I arrived back at the airport for the third time that day.

I drank a belly full at the Adam's Mark. The bar was big and full. There had been a Cardinals game and I was surprised that for midnight on a Sunday night it was still that busy. They had won and the place looked like Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

I didn't go home that week. I was supposed to have a few days off, but I spent them in St. Louis walking around downtown and sitting on a barstool wherever I found one.

Days went by, I jumped back into my regular routine.

Work.

Sleep.

Dream.

Blake.

Then I did it all over and over again.

Money rolled in, I was officially a partner in the company. The new building was up and running, and I was keeping them busy writing new deals with clients and increasing the shipments with customers we’d already won over.

As May 23rd crept closer and closer, I battled with myself.