Page 40 of The Downside of Love
“That’s . . . that’s good. So does that mean you’re not under your dad’s watchful eye anymore? Or did hell freeze over and you were able to work out your differences?”
“Hell is still hot as fuck. Believe me, there will be no solving our differences. The fucker is far too proud to ever act like a dad. I found somewhere else to live for the time being.”
“Good.” He pauses and then says, “Have you thought about the stuff I sent you?”
I shouldn’t have picked up the call. I knew talking to Hardie was going to put me in a shitty mood and within seconds it did. Now, he’s only fueling the flame.
After our last phone call, Hardie sent me an email full of all the ways I could reapply to get into flight school by earning my private pilot’s license first. It would cost me money, but it would be a huge step to making the sky mine again.
I haven’t even looked at it.
Even after working for a year on base, pilot’s license or not, I’d be competing for limited spots against first years finishing USAFA, not to mention the unmistakablefailfrom the year before. No. That dream has had to be shelved.
“Haven’t looked at it,” I answer honestly, my hand pinching my brow as a light breeze whips by me.
There is a low exhale on the other line, and I know Hardie’s irritated. “Why the hell not?”
“What’s the point? You really think I’d get in? There is a vendetta against me, Hardie. It’s not in the fucking stars for me, so might as well save myself the disappointment.”
“You don’t know that.”
I rub my forehead and stand up. “I know for a fact it’s not going to happen for me, so can you just fucking drop it?”
“I wish you would try.”
“And I wish you would stop fucking talking about it,” I yell, louder than expected. Blowing out a frustrated breath, I say, “Listen, I have to go. Be safe up there.” Before he can respond, I hang up the phone and pocket it.Fuck.
Hands on my hips, I look at Rory’s apartment and debate whether or not I should retreat to the comforting surroundings of her place.
I’m in no mood to be around her, so instead, I start walking. I don’t know where, I just walk.
I walk until my bare feet feel torn and battered, and the irony isn’t lost on me. How many years have I figuratively walked alone like this? Feeling like my heart was ripped to pieces. How many times have I shut out the world and hidden alone in my hatred?And yet here I am at twenty-three years old, still fucking on my own.Underwhelming.
* * *
When I reach the top of the stairs, I consider knocking but think better of it in case Rory is sleeping. The sun set a while ago, night creeping in, matching my dark mood. I still couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Hardie took a perfectly fine day and turned it into a tortured few hours, regret and hatred coursing through me as I walked the streets of Manitou, contemplating what the hell I was going to do with my life.
Nothing.
There was nothing I could do.
I drew a shit hand and I had to face it.
Carefully, I push down on the handle of the door and quietly walk inside to find Rory’s night table light on, her body tucked into a ball to the side underneath her fluffy comforter. Trying to be as silent as possible, I lock up and turn toward my bed to grab a pair of shorts to change into. Fuck the shirt at this point.
Rory sent me a few texts while I was gone, wondering where I was, if I was coming back to eat dinner, or if she needed to be concerned.
All her texts went unanswered.
I didn’t know what to say, how to respond without sounding like a complete ass, so I ignored them.
Seeing her innocent body tucked up tightly, I regret ignoring her. She didn’t deserve my silence, especially since she made me dinner.Especially since she’d opened her heart to be my friend.She did nothing wrong, and yet I punishedher. I punished her because I’m so goddamned ashamed of the man I am, of the constant plaguing voice coursing through me saying I’mnot good enough.
As quietly as possible, I get ready for bed, change into my shorts, and fold up my uniform. Before opening the bathroom door, I turn off the light so it doesn’t wake Rory.
Slinking toward my bed, I tuck my clothes away in the little laundry sack Rory gave me and turn toward the bed. I should turn off the light for her.
