Page 35 of Never To Suffer

“Why didn’t you call? We’ve been so worried about you. Someone said you were in Europe!”

“Canada. For rehab.” They run a thumb over my cheek, catching the tears. “Don’t cry, Beetle. Please? I’ve shed enough tears for both of us these last few years. I promise, I never went a day without thinking of you two. I had to get things figured out on my own. I had to see how far I could fall without you. I had to find an end, to make sure it existed and that I couldn’t fall forever.”

“Will you stay? I want to wake up knowing this wasn’t a dream.”

“I can stay tonight.”

“No.” I squeeze their hand. “Nottonight, not sleeping next to each other after we fall asleep watching tv. Not you on a chair and me in the bed. When I say I want you to stay, Skylar, I mean more than only tonight. I mean forever.”

I try to cup their face, and they take my wrists and lower my arms, but don’t let go. “I left you. I never should have done that knowing what it would do to you. Knowing how many people you’ve loved, you’ve trusted, and lost. I told Xander to take care of you and never let you go. To make sure you both never forget what you meant to me.”

“Stay with us now.”

“We shouldn’t do this, Dani. God, do I want to, but it’s the last thing we should do.”

“Why?” I step closer, pushing between their legs, brushing their hair back and studying a face that’s been through so much. They shake their head almost imperceptibly, our mouths inches apart. They breathe me in before I lean into them, my lips pressing against theirs. A moment passes before two large hands grab my face, drawing me to them for a deeper, toe-curling kiss that will undoubtedly replace the last kiss’s core memory. My arms wrap around their neck and my fingers tangle in their hair, chasing a dream that’s right there, right at the literal tips of my fingers. They don’t speak when their lips leave mine, and I almost lunge for more, not ready for it to stop.

I open my eyes in time to see Skylar bite their lower lip, a blush of pink spreading across their nose and cheeks. Why are they so fucking adorable? Why can’t they be cruel and heartless and make all of this so much easier to deal with? Why did they have to dig their way into my heart, making themselves a home in the process if they couldn’t stay?

A dozen small kisses follow. “Beetle, you’ve always made sense, both before I left and after. Your music healed me, but the memory of you and how you made me feel saved me. The world stopped spinning and everything stopped hurting when I kissed you. I felt like I belonged somewhere again. I found that speck of happiness in the distance and it scared the fuck out of me. But I couldn’t run from it, couldn’t hide. You’re my north star, and I knew I needed to find you again.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. I… Skylar, I…”

“Fuck this,” they mumble before wrapping their hand around the back of my neck, pulling me into them so fiercely I don’t think they’ll ever let go. My eyes close as I memorize how it feels when their nose slides up my throat, their lips slide along the shell of my ear, their hand cupping my ass. I want to soakit all in. I want this to last forever, but I’m scared they’ll leave again. As much as I claim to not have abandonment issues, I do. It’s why I push people away before they have the chance to walk away.

Skylar walked away, and they could do it again. I’d let them so long as they give us this chance.

“Dani,” they moan, digging the tips of their fingers into my hips as I hold their face, not letting go. Not letting them get away. The vibration starts between my legs and creeps up my spine, shooting bolts of electricity to the tips of my toes and the top of my head. This isn’t enough. I want more of them. All of them.

“Stay,” I say in a voice bordering on weak and pathetic, unrecognizable as my own. Raw.

“We shouldn’t do this,” they whisper, but neither of us stops our exploration. My hand slides down, savoring the groan and the way their eyes roll back as I press against the bulge in those tight jeans. “What room are you in?”

“Three ten,” I barely get the numbers out and they sweep me off my feet and around the corner.

CHAPTER 17

SMASH IT LIKE BELUSHI

GREEN DAY

The ticket staresat me from the counter, accusing me of being a chickenshit and hiding from my problems. The thickness of that irony could choke me. I spend my days helping other people through problems like this, through irrational fears and over-blown ideas. But when it comes to me and my own issues? I do the same things my patients do. I make excuses and bury my feelings. Therapists need therapists, too.

I glance at my watch. I could still make the flight. I can pick up my phone, get a rideshare, and be at the airport in time. By tonight, I could have a delicious meal by the finest chefs. Afterward, I’ll head over to that bakery I found on my last trip to pick up those croissants Sylvie loves.

But the call never came, and I’m not in the mood for a pity trip.

I need to bake.

Baking is a meditative art form for me, putting me into a state of mental clarity and relaxation. I’m good at it, even if I’m not good at anything else in my life. In France, a lifetime ago, I had the opportunity to of becoming the next up-and-comingpastry chef, studying under one of the best in the country. It would have been a dream come true if I’d stuck with it, but life happens. Well, more like death happens, leaving me empty and cold, with a grieving daughter and so much anger. I failed as a chef after that, and as a father.

I stride across the room and pull the fridge open. Empty. I used up the last of my groceries to keep me from coming home to a kitchen full of science experiments two weeks later. I check the cabinets to see if there’s anything else I should get while I’m out, grab my reusable bags, and head for the door. As I step into the hallway, I’m met by a large couch sticking out of my neighbor’s door, blocking both the stairs and the elevator. A younger guy sits on the couch, his head of shaggy dark hair in his hands and shoulders slumped.

Alexis, a former patient of mine, owns the place next door. She moved out a few years ago after getting married, and I can’t blame her. She didn’t have fond memories of that place. Living next to her new therapist might have been a little weird. Her sister stayed there for a few weeks before jetting off on some grand adventure; after that, Alexis tried turning it into one of those short-term vacation rental places. Last time I saw her she lamented about the stress of trying to keep up with the demands of people staying there, and the all-hours phone calls where they complained she didn’t live close enough to Disney.

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