Page 101 of Outspoken

Now I see that we don’t.

I reach my car down the street and unlock the door, climbing into the driver’s seat. I think I need time to let everything really sink in—plenty of time and space, because I have no clue what to do next. How can two people be together if they have different visions for the future?

Maybe there’s nothing to figure out since Amber doesn’t want more than booty calls.

Before I can stick the key in the ignition and drive my broken heart home, my phone buzzes in my back jeans pocket. I dig it out, glancing at the screen.Patty.

“Hey,” I answer. “Everything okay?”

“No,” she huffs. “There’s a teenage boy in my room and he refuses to vacate. My stuff is in there.”

Patty sometimes stays overnight with Mom, so the guest room is basically hers.

I blink, my head foggy from everything with Amber. “What teenage…oh.” I drop my forehead against the steering wheel, ready to raise a white flag because I’m done with today. “Angel finally showed up?”

“He waltzed through the door, stole the casserole I made for dinner, and then locked himself in my room. He did stop to give your Mom a hug and a kiss, but that’s it. I tried talking to him nicely, but he keeps cussing, calling me old lady and saying I should leave him alone and do my job. Is he supposed to stay in there? It’s your house, so I can move my stuff, but we didn’t talk about it. I understand if—”

“No, you don’t need to move your stuff. Sorry. We should have talked. I didn’t know if he’d ever show, but I’m giving him my room. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“That’s silly,” Patty says. “I can sleep on the couch when I have night shifts. I’m up with Marta a lot anyway.”

“No. You’ve been staying more nights lately and the couch sucks. I don’t want you sleeping on it.” I lift my head with a sigh.What a day.“I’m on my way back. I’ll grab something for dinner and we’ll get everything sorted.”

“Okay. See you soon then.”

“Bye.”

I pocket my phone and start the car, irritated at myself. I should have talked to Patty sooner about this Angel situation. My focus has been on Amber lately, but I need to be home more with Mom. My focus needs to be her and Angel, not on being Amber’s secret fuck buddy.

Maybe some time away from Amber would be good. It’ll give me time to think.

As I drive away, I glance at Jackie’s mobile home in the rearview mirror. My heart aches as Amber fades into the distance.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Amber

WHEN ERIC IS FINISHED WITH the end-of-meeting reflection—which NA and AA deny are prayers even though everyone knows the twelve steps are religious—the strangers next to me release my hands. The circle dissolves as people chat or walk to the table with juice and muffins.

The stuffy room is a little less depressing because someone replaced the flickering bulbs and changed a few tattered posters. But I don’t recognize anyone I saw last time I was here. I’m surprised at myself for even returning. I’ve never been to the same meeting twice. I guess I feel comfortable around Eric. A little.

Other than filling up a few hours of my otherwise empty evening, there was no reason to be here. I didn’t share, even though I have plenty to talk about. The party was an obvious share, but something on my mind a lot today has been Paige. She came over to show me pictures from their trip about a month ago, then she was busy catching up on work orders, then she suddenly changed. She’s been withdrawn and I can’t figure out why. She says everything is fine but I can tell it isn’t.

What hurts is she won’t talk to me. Aren’t we best friends? Not that I’ve been sharing much with her either…

What’s happening to us?

Either way, I didn’t share anything in the group today, so lingering here feels awkward. Eric looks busy talking to others in his flashy red Hawaiian-print shirt so…I should go.Why did I even show up?

Even though I ran out of coloring books and a wave of loneliness hit, I should’ve stayed home. Since I’ve been checking my phone too much for Miguel’s messages, I need to turn it off and stuff it under a pillow. Or Miguel needs to start responding better so I can see him. He cancels all of my attempts to hang out. Plus, he takes a day or more to respond. It used to be within an hour or less. Now suddenly he’s always busy and can only manage one-or-two-word responses, mostly,“Sorry, can’t.”

Is he hoping I’ll just stop asking?

Nausea hits every time I think about how I made him go out the window when we last saw each other over a week ago. I could tell he was pissed. I want to see him so I can explain that I was overwhelmed and not readyat that momentto reveal to everyone that we’ve been seeing each other. But I’m ready now. I want to talk with him about all the confusing stuff in my head lately. What I have to say isn’t a text conversation. We should talk in person. Yet, the dork won’t let me see him, and my calls go to voicemail.

I linger near the circle of folding chairs, anxiously check my phone. No response yet to the message I sent yesterday asking if he can come over this weekend. Jackie will be home, so she’ll answer the door—all part of my plan. I know myself and I’m not great with this vulnerable crap, so if Jackie sees him, there will be no going back. She’ll tell Paige and Paige will tell Brody. That’s my way of saying,“Miguel and I are dating,”without actually saying it.

It’s also my way of showing Miguel that I don’t want him to be a dirty secret. When he said that, I felt like shit. I wasn’t trying to make him a secret, but then telling others about us felt like admitting how much I want to spend time with him.

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