Perfecting Patience

Page 37

I smiled to myself and hugged the guitar close. He’d come back for this guitar. No way would he be okay with me shipping it to California when there was no telling what could happen to it. As long as I had his precious guitar, I was guaranteed to see him again.
I adjusted the large instrument in my arms they way he’d taught me so many months ago and ran my fingers across the strings. Soft, off-tune sounds vibrated and made the guitar rumble a little in my arms. As I ran inexperienced fingers across it, I closed my eyes and thought about the past. I took myself back to the time when Zeke had tried to teach me how to play.
Things were messed up then, and the way it looked now, things were never going to be perfect for Zeke and me. I didn’t want to lose him, yet it seemed like we’d never be together and happy. There was a tiny black cloud that followed us around and struck us with lightning every time things seemed to go well. No way did other couples have to deal with so much drama. Other couples didn’t seem to struggle as much as we did. It wasn’t fair. Didn’t we deserve as much of a shot as everyone else?
I was prepared to fight for Zeke. I’d been fighting to be with him almost from the start, but was Zeke in the same place in our relationship as me? He’d always fought for me, but watching him walk away from me so easily the night before made me think he didn’t have any fight left in him.
It was to be expected. He’d only been fighting for most of his life. I couldn’t blame him if he said screw it and walked away permanently. I’d always thought Zeke would make everything better. Once I found him again, I expected to get better and run right into a perfect existence with him, but that’s not what happened. Instead, the panic attacks started and the nightmares continued. He was no longer what I needed, he was what I wanted.
It sucked that I was just realizing that—now that he’d walked away thinking for sure I sexed some strange drug dealer at a party. Need and want were two different things. I needed air, sunshine, food, and water to survive, but I wanted Zeke to be there to make that survival worth it. Life was obviously not all hearts and roses—I knew that better than most—but he made things easier to deal with.
I continued to fiddle with his guitar, checking my phone every few minutes. He still hadn’t responded or called. I’d told him the only thing I could think of, that Hope had a crush on Phillip and I was talking to him for her. It was high schoolish, but it was quick. I needed a reason, other than buying drugs, to be in that room.
I lost myself in the moment, playing random things that sounded okay to my own ears and checking my phone. The sunlight that was so bright had already started to dim. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the clock because I knew it would only worry me worse.
“I hope you don’t always leave your front door unlocked like that.” His voice scared me and I almost dropped his guitar.
His eyes flicked to the instrument in my arms and then back up to my face. Expressionless, he was blocked completely from me—a stranger standing in front of me, angry, locked inside, and cold. I didn’t like seeing him that way. I wanted him warm and open, accepting of me and all my craziness, the way he’d always been.
“I usually lock it. Where’ve you been? Did you get any of my messages?”
He ignored my questions and went straight for his pain pills. Popping open the bottle, he took two without anything to drink. He’d probably spent the night in pain on a street corner. To my knowledge, he didn’t know anyone in Florida. I felt awful just thinking about him being in pain and alone.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I stared up at him with sad eyes.
And I was sorry. Sorry he was in pain. I felt like shit because I caused him more pain. Thoughts of him lost around Florida, alone, made me feel even worse. I just wanted to take it all away. I wanted to hit rewind and make everything better.
Then the craziest thing happened. He walked over and towered over me. His dark hair fell into his eyes and the remaining bit of sunshine reflected off his lip ring. He tucked the hair that escaped my ponytail behind my ear with his good hand and then ran a thumb across my bottom lip.
“No. I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that and called you such an awful name. That’s not who you are, and I wish I could take it all back. I should trust you no matter what. My only excuse is that I went temporarily insane with the thoughts of someone else touching you. I can’t handle that. It doesn’t matter who it is. I get this wild protective streak that runs through me and makes me want to kill whoever it is. I walked away because I was seriously considering killing him. Please forgive me for not trusting you. You’ve never given me any reason not to. You’re an honest girl. I should’ve known better.”