Page 39 of Under the Texas Sky
But what do I have to offer him now? It’s like we’ve traded places. I resent myself every day, feeling the pressure of the outside world to always be “on.” The happy persona I’ve been building since I left Texas is crumbling under my feet. I’m not happy. I’m not this person that people think they know because they’ve seen pictures of my dick on the internet.
I’m the same scared kid I was in high school, but in an adult’s body. I’m constantly worried about what’s going to come next. How I’m going to keep living like this, when it gets so hard to breathe sometimes that it feels like my lungs are submerged in tar.
I worry about Mitch and if he hates me. He should, because I left without a goodbye or even a thank you for all he did for me. If it hadn’t been for him, me and Trent wouldn’t have made it out of that car. We were barely hanging on by a thread. Mitch was there to grab that thread, and protect it by weaving other threads around it.
But now I’ve pulled those threads until they’ve frayed, and there’s nothing connecting us anymore.
I want to hate him, though, for never reaching out to me. He never once called to check on me, to see how I was doing or if I was still alive. How could he claim to love me so much and never talk to me again?
Is it hypocritical since I have his and Trent’s numbers blocked? Probably. But they could have tried other avenues of communication.
I tug on the hair at the nape of my neck, hoping the bite of pain can stabilize the emotions coursing through me.
Trent is a whole different story, but somehow I always come back to him. No matter how hard I try to push him to the back of my mind, he’s always there like a headache that never goes away.
Trent and his stupid brown eyes that looked golden when we woke up and the sunlight reflected off them.
Trent and his stupid new tattoos that definitely donotmake him more attractive.
Trent and how he would hold me tight, even after we would fight, and he would wipe my tears and reassure me that we were okay. That we would always be okay. That we would always be together.
Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
I wish I never pushed him away that day.
I wish I had let him comfort me.
I wish I never saw that video.
We would still be together, living in our own house by Mitch’s, and taking our kids over there to visit. But that’s not how life works. Life isn’t pretty, and not everyone gets a happily ever after.
I’m one of the people that don’t get a happily ever after. Because while Trent is building his new life with his new boyfriend, I’ll be stuck thinking over the “what ifs” until the day I’m lowered into the ground.
CHAPTER 35
TRENT
I knock on the door to the president’s suite, still surprised that the girl at the front desk gave me access to it. I guess it’s handy that I know Kian’s birthday, since that was the only question she asked me.
I wait with my heart in my throat, because what the fuck am I doing here? I should be downstairs, in my hotel room with my boyfriend, enjoying the comfort he brings me. Not knocking on the door to my ex-boyfriend’s suite.
But after dinner, and then forty-five minutes of pacing the room, Hunter suggested maybe I should do it. He told me I'm subconsciously looking for closure where I didn’t receive it before. And that’s it. That’s got to be it, because it can’t be anything more. I’ll close the door on that chapter of my life and I will finally be able to move on.
I also need to know why Kian never reached out when I told his boyfriend that Mitch was sick. Mitch wanted Kian to come home, but he never called. He never showed up. But Mitch never gave up hope.
I can hear someone on the other side of the door so I knock again, really hoping that it’s Kian and not his boyfriend. That would make it awkward to explain what I’m doing here.
The door cracks open, and I’m hit with a stench of booze so strong I have to take a step back. Kian’s eyes are bleary where he stares at me through the crack in the door. His heavy mouthbreathing puffing enough alcohol off his breath alone, I’m surprisedI’mnot drunk.
Kian doesn’t drink, he never has. That’s always been my M.O. The smell of alcohol on his breath takes me back to a time I try to forget. The hazy memories flood to the forefront of my mind until I force them back in the box where they belong. That’s not me anymore.
“Hi, Ki.”
The nickname slips out of my mouth like old times, and he opens the door a little more, staring at me with furrowed brows.
“Is now a bad time? I can come back.” I gesture over my shoulder to the elevators.
He huffs an annoyed laugh, but pushes the door all the way open and steps out of my view. I guess that means I’m invited in.
