The Art of Breathing (The Seafare Chronicles 3)
“I’m sorry,” I say, unsure of what else to say.
She shakes her head. “You don’t have to apologize to me. I’m not the one who needs to hear it.”
“I know. He knows. I’ve told him.”
“Is that all you’ve told him?”
I look sharply up at her. She watches me with those clever eyes. “Yes,” I say. “For now.”
“Are you staying?”
I hesitate. “I… don’t know.”
“Does he know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tyson? What do you know?”
“That I love him,” I finally say aloud. It’s easier than I thought it would be. “With everything that I am. With everything that I have.”
“Is that enough?” she asks.
“I want it to be. But I need to work more on myself before it can be. I need to stand on my own.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure it out.”
“Just… don’t hurt him.”
I look away. “I never wanted to.”
The fierceness melts away, and she smiles. “I know. But sometimes, those we love the most are the ones we hurt the most. And he loves you, Tyson. I don’t think he ever stopped, even when he didn’t know that’s what it was.”
“Do you…?”
“What?”
I think hard. “Do you think it’s possible for two people to be meant for each other? That even through all the shit and all the drama, you’re meant to be?”
“I do. Some things are just inevitable.”
I close my eyes. “What?”
Stacey reaches out and takes my hand in hers. “Inevitable, Tyson. No matter how hard you fight. No matter what happens between the two of you, no matter the distance that separates you, sometimes, these things are inevitable.”
SHE LEAVES a little while later.
I sit at the table, watching the sunlight trace its way along the wall. For the first time in a long time, I’m making decisions for myself. It’s terrifying. Addicts and alcoholics can tell you that, for a time after the drinking and the drugs end, all decision making is taken away and a strict structure is put in its place. It’s constrictive and suffocating, but necessary. It can be hard to trust us again, and we might not even trust ourselves. It was good to hand the reins over. But it’s gone on long enough.
And it scares the crap out of me.
It’s going to hurt, no matter what I decide. And now there’s more to consider. So much more. And I have to take it all in.
Speaking of.
Up from the table. Down the hall.