Page 44 of Hearts of Fairlake

"Like I couldn't understand the concept of watchingsomeone you care about so much come back a completely different, broken person. Like I didn't see how feral and pitiful I was, begging you to help me becauseclearly,I wasn't managing it on my own. I can only imagine what that had to be like."

I ground my teeth, not trusting myself to speak. There was a reason we didn't talk aboutthatperiod very much. People didn't know, but Devin had one hell of a temper, and when his teeth and claws came out, there was usually very little mercy for whoever he decided to tear into. Of course, I'd dealt with it before and could give as well as I got, but neither of us liked being that ugly with one another.

"Or when you were helping me, having to worry that I would keep relapsing. That the pills you were carefully feeding me to help with the withdrawal because I was too stubborn and proud to go to rehab might not be enough for me. That you might come home and find that I'd sold your shit for drugs or just flat out disappeared...again. Or how you had toliterally fight memore than once because I was losing my mind, fiending for the same shit that had destroyed my life."

"I get it!" I snapped, grabbing his hands and pulling them out of my shirt. Sometimes, it amazed me how quickly we could go from normal to spitting fire at one another. It wasn't like I was known for having patience or being mild-tempered, but Christ, Devin knew how to find the buttons that infuriated me and start mashing them. "Like you said, I lived through that time just like you did. I don't need to remember the specifics."

"You always want to avoid the specifics," he said with a frown, taking a step away from me now that I pulled his hands, his last lifeline to being calm, away from me. "It's like if you keep it locked up and think about it as little as possible, it'll magically stop being important. But then you'll standthere and think about 'the past and the present,' then turn around and get pissed when I talk about something you don't like."

"I don't understand why you want to talk about that shit at all," I told him. "The worst time of your life, and you want to pick at it like a scab? Isn't it enough to remember that it happened without getting obsessed?"

"I'm notobsessingwhen I think about the shit I went through," he told me with a shake of his head. "Just because you're willing to throw it all in a box and pretend it wasn't a big deal doesn't mean the rest of us are."

That was the real argument between us, and I could feel a familiar weariness settling in my chest. I didn't see the point in constantly digging at old wounds when it was better to leave them be. There would always be scars. I wasn'tthatinsensitive. But I also didn't see why it needed to be dug up and exposed to the world. It was better to leave the bodies where they were buried and not stink up the room.

Devin didn't see it that way, and honestly, as much as I tried to see things through his eyes, I was unable to wrap my head around it. He was tough, but that didn't mean I enjoyed watching him dig around in his head and poke at things that only brought him pain and unhappiness. I couldn't see what benefit there was when he was obviously much happier without it. And yeah, it also meant I wasn't getting dragged into whatever mental abyss existed there either, which was kind of nice too.

Our lives were good...finally,they were good. We were being offered repeated chances at happiness, and I didn't want to drag us back down to where we’d been four years ago. What I wanted most of all was for us to embrace the opportunity given to us and leave all the shit we'd had slung at us behind where it belonged. Yet it felt like no matterwhich way I turned, he was prepared to drag it back up and...for what?

"I just want to be able to go a month without having to talk about the most depressing shit we've ever experienced," I finally admitted with a sigh. "And I know, you've said this is how you process shit, this is how you deal with all that shit, but that's...not how I do it. Maybe there's something wrong with me, or it's just something we'll never be able to see eye to eye on. But I don't find that shit therapeutic, Devin. I find it fucking exhausting."

"I love you, Chase, but sometimes you can be the densest, most unsympathetic creature to walk this Earth," Devin said in a low voice before turning and leaving the room.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to take a deep breath as I heard the bedroom door close. It had been quite a while since I’d upset him enough that he was willing to separate himself from me rather than talk or fight it out. I still didn't know precisely what it was that had gotten him so pissed off at me, but it was hard to argue with his logic. I could be dense, insensitive, and a bit of a dick.

It was a wonder someone like him even took the time to deal with someone like me. Sure, the closeness we'd had from being stuck together as kids went a long way, but even that had its limit. Yet it had been me he’d come back to when everything else in his life had fallen apart, and he'd been drifting through the nothing, and it had been me he’d turned to when he finally wanted to get clean.

And now, he was the one repeatedly choosing to be with me despite all the frustrations he had to endure. I knew he loved me as much as I loved him because, like hell were we going to be the couple who argued over who loved who more. But that love sometimes felt like more of a burden to him than a virtue, like he had to constantly 'keep me in line'or make me understand things that were obvious to other people in order to be happy.

I sighed, looking down, as I felt something touch my leg and scooped the cats into my arms. Cole and Leo began purring furiously, making me roll my eyes as I looked down at them. "You two are too easy, you know that?"

Cole blinked slowly in agreement, or he was trying to tell me telepathically that I needed to shut up and continue cuddling him.

"Kind of a shame I'm not," I said with a sigh. "Do you guys think I was being too much of an insensitive dick."

Leo closed his eyes, sniffing gently at the air.

"Yeah, I mean more than usual, though," I snorted, staring out the window.

How the hell was I going to find it in myself actually to propose to Devin? We couldn't go long without one pissing the other off or hurting their feelings. Sometimes, it felt like we were still battling our pasts, and at my worst moments, it felt like Devin was trying to help our past get the better of us. Then again, I had always relied on him to be my emotional guidance. Why would I change that now?"

Because it hurt, it hurt to go through those old memories and remember the desperation and fear. To remember what it was like to look at Devin with a horror I hoped didn't show on my face as I saw not the man I knew but his gaunt, haunted shadow. Devin had been right. The number of times I felt the quiet but persistent fear of what he would do when I wasn't around was always lurking at the edges of my mind. Sometimes, I still felt guilty about that because despite knowing addicts didn't act like the people they’d once been, it was still Devin, and I should have shown more faith in him.

My mind flashed to the ring tucked away at the back of my large toolbox in the garage. It was the only place on the property I could guarantee Devin wouldn't accidentallystumble across it. Not that I’d fooled myself into thinking he didn't know it existed. We had talked enough for me to know he was definitely into the idea of getting married. It was just important he didn't get to see the ring because that was supposed to be the real surprise...though considering I'd bought it over a year ago, the real surprise would probably end up being that I finally got around to proposing to him.

It wasn't like I didn't want to propose to him, but every time I came up with an idea or put effort into asking him to marry me, something locked up in my head and kept me in place. Sometimes, it was like now when I wondered if we were hurting each other more than we were helping. Other times, I feared that the minute I did, it would invite somethingelseinto our cozy bubble of happiness to take it all away. And other times, I couldn't put a finger on what was holding me back.

"I should probably go apologize," I said to the cats, knowing they would much rather I continue to stand there and hold them like babies, but that wasn't an option. Plus, I’d know quickly upon entering the room if it was the time to apologize or leave him alone.

Murmuring to the cats to get over themselves, I set them back on the couch and went toward the bedroom. Hanging on the wall was a painting, and I frowned, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. I felt a twinge in my chest as I remembered a few months ago, he’d taken me to some art fair in Fovel. Most of it hadn't been my thing. But there had been this strange watercolor. Small explosions of vibrant colors smeared and sparked all over the place. It reminded me of a picture of fairies my great-grandmother had when I was a kid, and I'd told Devin that, finally, I could seesomethingin all the random art pieces.

Now, it was on the wall.

Sighing heavily, I pushed open the door and peered intothe bedroom. Much like the rest of the house, the 'master' room wasn't large, and our bed dominated the space. Other than that, there was only room for the night tables and the TV I'd hung across from the bed. There, of course, were still plenty of those little touches Devin was so fond of, throwing himself into adding life and personality to the house with a glee that puzzled me.

Now, seeing that picture on the wall, seeing something that was so distinctly me in the house that wasn't an oil-stained pair of pants or my socks drooping off a chair, I understood completely. Our lives had never afforded us much in the way of a safe place to...exist. Everything we did was a reaction to everything around us, and no home had been ours. We could claim no real space as our own.

He had been doing that all along, finally feeling like he was in a place where he could settle down comfortably and start buying unnecessary decorations and plants because he finally considered a place his home. I had always considered it my house, but until Devin came into my life, I’d never considered it a home. Now, there were pieces of our shared lives all over the house, and everything he had been trying to do for so long was starting to make sense.

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