My words come out sounding hateful. That’s not how I intended them. That’s not how I wanted this conversation to go. When dealing with Daphne, it’s best to take the high road and kill her with kindness. What you don’t want to do is accuse her of being in the wrong. Which I just did. I’ve called out her venomous actions.
“Why would I do that?” she asks, lowering her arms as a smile slowly beginning to spread across her face. “I mean, it’s not like you locked me in this place. Tricked me into coming here. Please, tell me why I would want to make your life miserable right now.”
And there it is. The real reason she’s been in Harley’s office every day.
She knew Harley would choose her over me.
The question becomes… do I tell Harley or let her find out for herself?
On the one hand, telling her might mean she’ll finally talk to Vivian. That could turn into a good thing for me. For us. On the other… I’d be breaking Harley’s rules. That would piss her off, and even if she talked to Vivian, she may not want to talk to me anymore.
Not to mention, if Harley’s no longer Daph’s counselor, what is she going to tell the new person?
My truth is going to come out eventually. Daphne will only keep quiet for a little while longer. I knew this was a strong possibility when we came here. That she would let it all slip. That she might not stick to the script. I’ve been holding out hope she would open her eyes and see that being here is an opportunity for her.
To get better. Stronger.
I have a feeling my time is up.
There is no clear choice. No matter what I decide, I’m risking the one chance I have with Harley. No matter what I choose to do, I’m going to have to lie to her a little either way.
18
Harley
* * *
God, he’s amazing.
He always smells good. He’s been a huge help with Phoenix. We have fun together, even if we’re just sitting in a room silently. Like right now.
Phoenix is between us on his couch. We let him pick the movie tonight. Alex is staring at the screen, feigning interest while I stare at him between sips of wine. I can tell he’s not paying attention to the movie because his forehead is wrinkled in concern and he keeps sighing at the most inappropriate times.
Especially considering we’re watching an action movie. A romance? Sure. Comedy? Maybe. Not an action movie where cars are racing through the city at speeds you only see in the movies. Making turns that would be otherwise impossible.
I want to ask him if he’s okay. He spent the day at the rehab center visiting with Daphne, and he’s looked lost and distant since he got back. He was going to meet Phoenix and me for lunch but never showed up, and instead shot me a text that he wouldn’t be able to make it.
No big deal. Or at least that’s what I thought until I saw his apartment door was closed when we got back. That either meant he was still visiting Daphne or he wanted to be alone. He never closes his door when he’s home. Ever.
I’ve tried to explain how unsafe that is, but he doesn’t seem to care. He doesn’t have much of value, but a robber won’t discriminate. He’ll take anything that’s not nailed down, and then where will he sleep?
I assumed he was still out until I heard the smoke alarm go off in his apartment and went rushing over. The door was unlocked, and I walked in on Alex fanning the ceiling with a kitchen towel to try and get it to shut off.
He burnt toast.
And not just overcooked it to where it’s tough to eat and tastes a little charred. It was black and rock solid. The toaster was still smoking, the remnants of the toast on the counter next to it.
Once we opened the windows and his apartment door, the breeze pushed the smoke out and the alarm shut off. He didn’t bother to explain what happened. He thanked me for my help and dropped two more pieces of bread in the toaster.
I left without a word.
His actions told me he wasn’t in the mood for company. It’s my job to know when people need a moment to themselves. Alex had all the classic signs. Unemotional. Standoffish. In his own head.
If he had wanted company or even to talk through what was going on, his door would have been open. He was obviously working something out. If he wanted my help, he’d ask. We’re not exactly there yet in our… relationship. If that’s what we’re calling this. We’re friends. No benefits.
Not that I don’t want to see what kind of benefits he has to offer. I mean, I got a sneak peek at the goods and was beyond impressed. Not that I have much to compare him to, but I know the difference between a hot dog and a bratwurst. One is small and skinny. The other… not so much.
That was four hours ago. Phoenix went and knocked on his door when dinner was ready, and I was surprised when he returned with Alex. Since then, he’s been quiet, only answering when spoken to. Phoenix hasn’t seemed to notice, or if he did, he didn’t call him out. But now I’m going to. He’s getting ready to go back to his place for the night, and I can’t let him leave here without knowing that I’m happy to listen and help any way I can. Especially if it has anything to do with his sister, even though I’ve stressed that I don’t want to talk about her.
“Hey,” I say, catching the door before he can pull it closed. Stepping into the hall, Alex turns to face me, and when I look in his eyes, it’s as if he’s about to break. “If you want to talk, I’m here for you.”
“I can’t talk to you about this,” he replies dismissively.
“You can talk to me about anything, Alex.”
Alex opens his mouth to speak but hesitates. “Can you come over and talk?”
“Of course. I’ll be over in a minute,” I say, turning to head back into my apartment.
After letting Phoenix know I’m going across the hall, I grab the bottle of wine I opened earlier. Alex’s door is closed again, a bad sign if I’ve ever seen one. Letting myself in, I ponder whether to leave it open or not. It’s weird to be alone with him, behind closed doors, yet I have a feeling he wants privacy for this conversation, so I close and lock it behind me.
“I brought wine,” I call out, searching his cupboards for two glasses.
“Next one on your right,” he says from behind me.
After opening the next door, I pull out two wine glasses, then pour us each a glass. When I turn, he’s standing closer than I was expecting, almost causing one glass to slip from between my fingers when I jump.
“Sorry. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to reach them.”
“Oh,” I say, handing him the sweet white wine I bought on my way home from work last night.
Making our way to the couch, I curl up on one end while Alex paces the length of the room for a minute before sitting down on the other end. He doesn’t speak right away, twisting the stem of his glass but not taking a sip.
“Okay, I assume this goes without saying, but I like you, Harley. A lot. I enjoy spending time with you and Phoenix. If it weren’t for you guys, I’d be going crazy here.”
“I like you too,” I hear myself admit when he pauses.
“Good. I’m glad, but that doesn’t solve my problem.”
“And the problem is…”
“Daphne.”
I had a feeling this had to do with her. She’s been too nice. Too interested in talking about her problems. Her parents were absent when she was growing up. She never really felt loved. She was all alone. She only felt important when she was with her friends. Playing sports. The only time she felt in control of her life was when she was high.
Pain killers.
Uppers and downers.
Marijuana and booze.
She’s tried it all according to her.
I wasn’t about to tell her there were plenty of drugs she hadn’t tried.
We’ve had the same conversation over and over again these last few weeks. I’ve asked her to write in a journal, but she refuses. I’ve tried to get her to talk about her parents specifically or her friends. She won’t. She only wants to discuss what she’s comfortab
le with, and no matter how hard I try, she won’t change the topic. She won’t stray. It’s as if she’s memorized the talking points and sticks to them.
“What’s wrong with her? She seemed fine when I left yesterday.”
She was on fire when I left, but I don’t tell him that. She was pissed about something. Not at me but she took it out on me.
“She’s using you.”
“What do you mean? That’s the point of rehab. For her to use me as a sounding board. To lean on me if she needs it. I’m basically her punching bag.” It’s a horrible analogy, but it’s the one I always use. I’m not afraid my patients are going to physically assault me, but I am their emotional punching bag. They take it out on me, and that’s fine. I signed up for it when I took this job. I knew what I was getting myself into.
“No, she’s using you to get to me. To destroy me. She knows I like you, and she’s staying close to you because she knows you’ll choose her over me. She knows you would never do anything to jeopardize your job, so as long as you’re her counselor, I can’t have you in my life as more than a friend and neighbor.”
That little bitch.
All the signs were there, but I didn’t see them. I was too excited she was finally willing to talk to me. I ignored the red flags. Let her in. Shared bits and pieces of my life with her to create a bond. She knows more about me than Alex does.
She knows I grew up poor. That someone in my family had a drug problem. That I’ve had to claw my way to the top from nothing. And she was banking on the fact I wasn’t telling Alex these things.
I mean, I sort of have. Our daily half-truths have been enlightening. I’ve given him hints as to what my past was like but nothing substantial. I can’t. I’m not ready to have that conversation with him. To explain all the lies I’ve told him.
Every time I think I’m ready, I chicken out. Just the other morning I almost told him Phoenix wasn’t my son. I wasn’t thinking straight. He’d taken off his shirt halfway through our run, and I was distracted by his rock-hard abs. By the definition in his chest. And my mind was wandering the gutter, attempting to conjure up a mental image of what lay below the band of his shorts. I’d seen it, but I wanted a better look, and that’s all I could focus on.
So when we reached the landing and he spoke his half-truth, Phoenix’s name almost slipped from my lips. The entire truth about our situation. The one thing I’m scared to ever share with anyone.
Then, I froze. I couldn’t come up with something that wasn’t a full-on lie so that’s what I spit out before rushing into my apartment and slamming the door.
He told me he was afraid of ending up like his father, and I told him I was from Oregon.
There wasn’t even a hint of truth in my statement, and I felt horrible.
“I don’t know what to say, Alex. I’m not choosing her over you. It’s my job.”
Alex nods, scooting closer to me on the couch. He takes my wine glass, then places both of our glasses on the coffee table before facing me.
“Talk to Vivian. Please.”
“I can’t do that, Alex. I’m too invested at this point.”
I tried to talk to Vivian. Walked into her office and was ready to blurt out the truth about Alex and me. That I liked him and that we had become friends. She was so excited about Daphne’s progress that I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. And now, knowing that a large part of that progress is because she’s pissed at Alex, it would be detrimental to Daphne to change counselors.
“What can we do then, because you’re all I think about. When you’re not here, I miss you. When you are here, all I want to do is kiss you.” His confession isn’t new. He’s said as much before, but his words still warm my heart.
“We wait. She’s almost halfway through the program already.”
“I’m supposed to go back home after. How will that work?”
It won’t, but I don’t tell him that. I want to be with Alex more than I care to admit to myself, but a relationship shouldn’t be this complicated. Sure, they take work. Commitment. They’re far from easy, but if it’s this hard for us to be together at the beginning, I can only imagine what it would be like in the end.
And everything eventually ends.
Especially when you’re only sharing a portion of who you are with the other person. When you’re living a lie and hiding from your past.
Until I can come clean with him about who I really am, until he can get to know the real me, there’s no point in starting something. We’re from two different worlds. Worlds that have collided, but instead of intertwining and creating a new world, I predict an explosion of massive proportions.
“Stay with me tonight?” he asks when I don’t respond.
“Alex, that wouldn’t be a good idea, and you know it.”
But I want to. I want to know what it’s like to be wrapped in his warm embrace. For his body to be pressed against mine. The feel of his lips against my bare skin.
I want all of that and so much more, but I can’t have any of it. I can’t have Alex.
If I allowed myself, everything else could come crashing down around me.
19
Alex
* * *
There’s no convincing her to stay with me. Even after I explain that it has nothing to do with sex. All I want is to hold her. To not be alone.
Does that mean I’m using her?
Maybe. It’s what I need right now, though.
Human connection.
The realization that Daphne is running the show hit me hard. You would think I was the one in control of everything, but really, it’s her. She may be locked up, blaming me, and suffering, but she found a way to make sure I suffered too. Because I was the one that locked her away.
Because if she had to be miserable, so did everyone around her.
And she was hell-bent on making sure I was miserable. And alone. The same way she is right now. Only, I don’t deserve this. I haven’t done anything that warrants being alone. I’m not the one who decided to destroy my life.
I felt Harley slipping away when she went back to her apartment. There was no doubt in my mind that if I hadn’t already lost her, I would soon. Not because of Daphne or the strings she was pulling, but because I wasn’t being honest with her. If I told her the truth about everything, maybe she would understand why Daphne was doing what she was doing.
But coming clean also means Daphne won’t get any more help, and as much as I want to be with Harley, as much as my heart yearns for her, I need to put Daphne first. Before my own needs. The same way Harley is putting Daphne’s needs first.
I don’t want to be pissed but, I am. I knew there would be consequences to my actions, to the decisions I made. If I had known they would be this severe, I never would have gone ahead with my plan.
Who am I kidding? Yes, I would.
Because before Harley, I wasn’t sure I even believed in love or romance. I didn’t want to get to know a woman just to know her. I asked the questions that would impress her, to get her in my bed. I made tactical and calculated moves to get what I wanted.
One date and done. A quick roll in the sheets if I could stand them long enough.
I could have done that with Harley, but I knew she was different from the moment I laid eyes on her. She wouldn’t have fallen for my game no matter how hard I tried.
And throwing Phoenix into the mix… that made my old way of life out of the question.
So here I sit, staring at the black screen of my television, contemplating my next move. Not only with Harley but in my life. Because there will come a time when I need to make that decision, and it’s rapidly approaching.
Daphne will be done in a little over six weeks. That means I have less than that to figure my shit out, to decide what happens next. Where we go from here. What my new life, what our new life, will look like.
It’s best for Daphne to go back home, to get back in a routine that resembles her former life. Life before the drugs. To live in a safe en
vironment.
The only place I see that for her is with me.
Which means I need to go back as well. To babysit her for a while. To make sure her head is on straight and she stays on the right path. To monitor her every move.
And I get to do this all while working and supporting us, assuming my father found a way to amend the terms of my trust fund. Without that money, we’ll struggle to get by. I’m not afraid of working hard, but it would be easier to keep my eye on Daphne if there were funds in the bank.
I need to talk to Chuck. See if he has an update for me. I haven’t spoken to him since my parents left for Europe to chase Daphne and me from city to city. The last reservation I made was in Venice last week. I contemplated sending them a few more places, but I wasn’t even sure they were still looking.
My mother more than likely got distracted shopping. I guarantee my father didn’t stop working just because he was out of the office. They’ve taken a few vacations over the years and always come home early for one reason or another. You’d think they’d find a way to enjoy themselves, but that seems impossible judging by their history.
Checking the time, it’s after ten o’clock on the East Coast, but I take a chance that Chuck isn’t in bed yet.
“Alex,” he greets me over the sound of a party in the background. “It’s good to hear from you. How have you been?”
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” I say, standing and moving to look out the window.
It’s Sunday night. If he wasn’t asleep, I expected him to be in his home office, working. A party was the last thing I thought he’d be having right now.
“No, not at all. Just a little get together with my wife’s family that refuses to end. I really need to take their cards away. They’ve been playing gin for hours now.”
A late-night card game sounds normal. Gin? Not so much. I’d expect him to be playing poker and smoking a stogie. Then again, he’s nothing like my father, and that’s something I could see my father doing.
“I won’t keep you. I was wondering if there was an update on my trust. Will I still be able to access it next month as planned, or did my father find a way to put a hold on it?”
Half Truths: An Opposites Attract Romance Page 13
