Page 83 of Kylo
Either way, so long as Rue was left alone to pick up the pieces of her life and rebuild, I was okay with that.
Even if I wouldn’t get to be a part of it.
I was just going to have to get used to that ache in my chest every time I thought about her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Rue
Roughly a week and a half passed where I was getting nearly constant texts from my grandmother and sideways looks from Traeger, both of them clearly worried about my sudden change in demeanor.
I appreciated their concern.
But I didn’t want to talk about it.
And I didn’t want to have to keep feeling bad for using whatever coping mechanisms I needed to get through the days.
Did I recognize that I was more guarded, cooler, less chatty? Yeah. Did I know that I hadn’t smiled once in all that time? Not until Traeger told me.
But cold and guarded was better than curled up in my bed sobbing. So they were just going to need to roll with it.
Of course, I didn’t want to feel this way,bethis way, forever. I wanted to feel ease again, comfort, friendliness,happiness. With those things out of reach at the moment, though, I was okay with just getting through it by whatever methods necessary.
“Coffee,” Traeger said, dropping down a cup in front of me, the glass already starting to sweat.
It was my fourth coffee of the day.
Traeger was showing his support with caffeine.
I’d never loved him more.
Really, he’d been so great about everything. The “break-in,” my closing the shop for a day, then showing up in a zombie state for a day or two, followed by this new iteration of me.
He’d asked a few questions at first, but hadn’t pried. I think he was just trying to make it clear that if I needed someone to talk to, he was there, that he understood betrayal and bad break-ups.
And while he did still make his concerns clear, I had a feeling it was more out of concern for my mental health than anything.
I guess the one good thing that came out of this whole mess of a situation was that either my anxiety and depression had regulated themselves a bit, or the new meds were pulling their weight. Because I wasn’t nervous and panicky. I wasn’t dreaming of my bed all day. I was just… hurt. Angry.
Both, I felt, were acceptable considering what happened.
“You’re a saint,” I told Traeger as I reached for the coffee.
“To further cement my saintly status, I was thinking of going out and picking up lunch. A real carb fest. You in?”
“I could eat.”
Like many things, it didn’t have the same pleasure it used to. But my stomach had been grumbling since I’d shown up that morning. I’d been silencing it with coffee, but I was going to need to eat soon so I could take my meds.
“Okay. I’m getting it all. Fries, pasta, pizza, all the good stuff.”
“Let me—” I said, reaching for my purse.
“Absolutely not,” he said, holding up a hand. “I just got a major deal. I’m not spilling the deets just yet, but it’s huge. I am about to be rolling in it.”
“Well then, by all means, you treat us.”
“I’ll be back in less than an hour.”
