He's everything.
“You’re getting better,” he says. It’s an observation, not a question, but I nod my head anyway. When my hands have stopped shaking, I bring my mug to my lips and take a sip. It’s watered-down now, but a sense of comfort washes over me instantly in a way that I’m sure isn’t healthy.
“I won’t,” he says and his voice trails off at the end. There could be a million things he won’t do, and he hasn’t even finished his sentence yet, but my stomach sinks and fear seeps in. I force deep breath after deep breath in order to stop the shaking.
I’m losing him.
“Fuck, are you okay?” He shoves the empty coffee mug out of his way and leans across the table, taking my hands in his in the process.
“I’m fine.” It’s a lie. I’m anything but fine, but lying has become my new normal. The way his eyebrows crease together and his brown eyes implore mine, I know he knows I’m lying.
“I won’t be around tomorrow,” he says steadily. He leans in just a tiny bit closer and takes a deep breath as he says, “The club needs me.”
“I get it,” I say quietly. And I do get it. It just sucks and I feel absolutely defeated by the news that he won’t be here tomorrow. What does that mean for the next day and the day after that then?
I’m not losing him. I’ve lost him. I guess it’s time. I mean, he’s been hanging out with me for months now. Every day he’s here. Every day he’s been here. He leaves after coffee in the morning, but he’s here and if I’m being honest with myself, his presence is the only thing I look forward to every day.
“Hey.” His voice gets quieter, somehow. Softer somehow. “I’m right here. I just got to take care of some club bullshit that I’ve been avoiding.”
“That’s where you should be, not babysitting my lame butt.” I try to sound strong and confident, but I don’t think I succeed. “I’m fine here. Really.”
“Tell me anything but that you’re fine because we both know what fine actually means.”
I guess we do, but that doesn’t mean I’m up for telling him how I really feel. I spent every waking minute and most of my sleeping ones as well trying to avoid feeling anything, and being sober, that’s fucking hard. I could make it better.
I could.
I want to.
“Nic’s about to have her baby,” I say. Counting down the days to Nic’s due date has been excruciating. Aside from Ian’s daily visits, I don’t have a lot to look forward to. But this baby is something special and I like Nic a lot. I have to be there when she gives birth. I just can’t miss it.
“I’ll still take you to the hospital once Duke gives the all-clear for visitors. I’m not disappearing, babe.”
I lower my head and take a deep breath to force the blush from my cheeks. I hate how he affects me like this. It’s just a word, but it makes me do crazy stupid things.
Babe.
“We good?” he asks and pulls away before I’m ready. My hands clutch his for a brief moment before I realize what I’m doing and I release him. No need to seem as pathetic and needy as I really am. When I raise my head and catch his eye, I nod and try to smile. His jaw ticks just once before he gets it under control and steps away from the kitchen table. He takes two steps back, still watching me, before he turns and strides toward the front door. Ian meets Dad’s eye in the living room and nods toward the door. Dad responds quickly and follows him out, closing the door behind himself.
I hate it when he leaves. It’s like one moment everything’s fine and normal as it should be and the next the entire world is falling apart again.
I walk to the front door and press my ear up against the wood. Their voices are faint, but as I move around and find a better position, they get louder.
“For the best. Tired of havin’ the boys at the station wonder why I got Forsaken at my house every morning,” Dad says in his best attempt at casual conversation with Ian. They don’t really like each other, but Ian hasn’t really given Dad much space seemingly able to deal with his dislike of Dad much better than Dad’s dealing with his dislike of Ian.
“Any of your boys get to wondering what I’m doing, you tell them to ask me,” Ian says. “None of their fuckin’ business what I do regardless of where I’m doing it.”
Dad grunts.