Page 107 of Rum Sips and Salty Lips

No matter which door she goes through, she has to climb stairs. I don’t want her to lift her groceries and hurt herself any more than she has. I’m right here. I can help her.

She greets me with a glare.

“Give me the bag,” I say.

She doesn’t fight me when I reach for the strap. “What are you doing?” she asks.

“What does it look like? I’m helping my hurt neighbor with her groceries. Isn’t that a normal thing for friends to do?” I’ll prove to her we can be friends, even if the breakup didn’t need to happen in the first place. She might have always thought I would leave if things ended, but I’m not going anywhere.

I shouldn’t wish to convince her I’m staying. I don’t know if she’ll ever accept it.

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

Once in the kitchen, I set the bag on her counter and lean against the sink. Here, I’m out of her way but I can watch her move. “What happened to your leg?” I ask.

“None of your business.” She methodically unpacks her food. It’s obvious every step is painful.

“Maybe not, but you took care of me when I was hurt. Do you really think I’d be able to see you in pain and ignore it?”

She braces her hands on the counter. “It’s a high hamstring strain. It’s a common yoga injury.”

“Okay, should you see a doctor? I can drive you.”

“No, I just need to rest it,” she says.

“Then why did you walk to the grocery store?” She has a perfectly functioning hybrid. She doesn’t need to be this stubborn.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Orion.” Her voice changes. It’s perfectly pleasant. As if my presence means nothing to her and whatever we had before meant nothing.

I should let it go, walk away now and preserve whatever friendship or neighborliness I can. But I don’t. Because she hurt me. She refuses to see what’s directly in front of her, and I’m done giving her the benefit of the doubt. She’s afraid. I need her brave.

I need closure.

“No, you’re right. You never did ask for my opinion. But I’ve always given it. So, listen to me now.” She may take emotion out of her voice, but I let her hear my anger and my pain. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough reason for me to stay. I’m sorry I’ve been downplaying my feelings for weeks. I thought you knew. Or knew enough. I’m staying anyway, but I would stay for you alone.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this, Orion,” she says. “You can’t blame me for your feelings because I didn’t start this. You’re the one who blew into my life like a hurricane. I didn’t ask you to move next door. Or to kiss me on your boat. You were always there. And I didn’t choose any of this. I was fine before you. I’ll be fine after you.”

I lean back again, the wall catching me so I don’t fall. I’m not sure she believes the last thing. “You were with me every step of the way,” I say.

“Maybe, in the moments. I never had the chance to stop and think about what I wanted. We agreed to a fling. That’s all I wanted. It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about me,” she says.

She kissed me first, but I let her know I was open to it and she walked through the door. I’ve always been afraid I was convenient for her, that any obstacle would have prevented us from hooking up. If I lived a few streets over, or heaven forbid, the mainland, we would have never connected the same way,even if we had the same friend group and I was around the same amount. But I’m done playing games and not saying everything I feel to make her comfortable. She can either handle the full force of my emotions or she can’t. She can hide from her friends, but she’s never been able to hide from me and I won’t let her start now.

I set my anger and my pain at what she’s saying aside, because she’s so woefully transparent. She wants this. But she’s so scared to take what she wants for herself. She’s afraid she’ll lose it. Lose me. She’s pushing me away instead, and she will take me down with her. “Choose me now. You’re hiding behind your rules and your fear, rather than admitting your feelings. You could have everything you’ve wanted if you pick me now.”

She growls. I swear she fucking growls. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is. Be in a relationship with me. Without boundaries and without reservations.”

“You can’t possibly want me back.” Her voice is disbelieving.

“I love you, Carina. We can work this out, but you have to give me something.”

“I have nothing left to give you.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “There’s no point in trying for more.”

“Right. You’ve already given everything away. Well, I tried. I gave you a chance. Twice now. At least I’ll always be able to say that.” I’ve fought more for her than I have for anyone else. Every moment of it was worth it.

But I won’t sail where I’ll run aground. There is no passage forward for me here.

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