“I do remember.” I’ve been hurt a lot worse lately, is what I leave off. But then I realize I’m wrong. Hurt is hurt, it’s all damaging, it’s all negative.
“So,” Allie continues, “if you remember the pain you felt, please tell me why you are sleeping with him.”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, suddenly asking myself the same question. Why do I do this, over and over again?
Allie adds, “I can’t watch you go through that pain again. I simply refuse to, and I love you too much to let it happen again. To be with Darius, he needs to be emotionally there for you.” She pauses, her shoulders slump a little. “Please don’t stay with Darius because it’s safe and comfortable. And don’t let him off the hook so easily. He hurt you badly. He needs to answer for that and make good on it.”
Her words flow over me, honest and true, and I’m feeling a slow lump rise in my throat. The other night in bed with Darius, I knew I was doing the same thing that I always do. I’m with Darius because he can protect me, because I do love him, because he makes me feel so good and safe, but he’s still not being my forever guy. He doesn’t come to me out of a desire to spend time with me. He only cleans up my messes, like it’s his responsibility to look after me. And he protects me, like it’s his duty, too.
That’s not the love I want, that’s obligation, and I want more than that for my life. Hell, I deserve more than that. And I’ve always known he can’t give me his heart, because that’s one thing that’s always been untouchable.
As I stare into my best friend’s warm eyes, knowing that she’s only bringing this up out of fear that I might leave her again or that I might be cut so deeply the pain burns for years, I realize one hard truth: I can’t change Darius.
But I can change me. I can change the unhealthy circle I feel trapped in, where somehow I draw negativity to myself. Where I stop making sacrifices to make others happy. I can finally put myself first.
“I know what you’re saying,” I say to her, “but being with him just feels…” Tears well up in my eyes, and my lips shut tight to stop the sadness from growing.
“Oh, God, please don’t cry.” Allie jumps out of her seat, rushing to my side. “This isn’t about making you sad, but I don’t want you to do this only because Darius is a safety net. My brother is who he is, and I love him for what he is, but you’re my best friend. You deserve a guy who puts you above all else in his life. And Darius”—she half shrugs—“he doesn’t know how to do that. Family, love, all that stuff is not a priority in his life.”
I wipe a tear from my cheek, admitting something I hadn’t wanted to admit. “I know he’s closed off. I also know he won’t ever open himself up to me. I know he has commitment issues. And I know that I can never help him.” Because he won’t ever let me.
Allie’s eyes soften, her head cocks. “Then, Taylor, please, please think about this. I can’t lose you again for another five years because Darius breaks you apart. Promise me that you’re thinking clearly about all this.”
It’s as if a cloud suddenly lifts from my brain. And within all the emotion that’s been raging through me lately, logic begins to break through the fog.
Darius is the guy who sends me spiraling into darkness so very easily. He’s always been that guy. He becomes my everything, and that’s just not healthy, because I’m not his everything. “I promise to protect myself,” is all I say.
“Not yourself,” she counters. “Your heart. Protect that. Promise me.”
I nod. “I promise.”
Chapter 17
Taylor
On Haight Street, I stare up at the sign that says RICK’S SPORTS BAR, wondering how I even got here. After work, I planned to go to the San Francisco police department to get a restraining order against Shawn, to put my parents’ worries to bed. Yet here I am, not at the police station.
The Haight has only four sports bars, or so Google told me, and I’d gone to all of them until I reached this last one. Hoping that my instincts are right, I enter the pub, not bothering to look at the wooden tables or the sports games on the large television screens. Instead, I focus on the bar stools. One by one, I scan each person sitting at the bar, until I spot the dark-haired man with the navy blue baseball cap drinking a beer at nine o’clock in the morning.
I snort to myself.
Some people are so predictable, and I hate that. Maybe I was still holding out hope that one day Darius wouldn’t be so predictable and do something entirely shocking and unlike him. Emotionally absent, Allie had said, and she hadn’t been wrong.
As I move farther into the restaurant and reach the greeter, I smile at her. “It’s okay, I’m meeting someone and he’s right there.” I point toward the bar.
“Oh, okay,” she says, waving me into the restaurant.
I brush past her and stop behind the guy’s stool and cross my arms. “Shawn.”
His back stiffens before he turns to face me, giving me a long look. I washed off my makeup before coming here to prove a point, and while some of the bruises healed, the worst ones still lingered. “T-Taylor?” he stammers.
“Surprised to see me?” I ask, dropping down onto the stool next to him.
“Well…” He lowers his beer to the bar, his light blue eyes on me. “Yes.”
“You’re easy to find,” I say with a dry laugh, because I knew exactly where he would be. Once Darius had said he was staying in the Haight, all I needed to do was narrow down all the sports bars. Shawn is a guy of habit, and sports bars are his thing.
The bartender approaches me, wiping down the bar in front of me. “What can I get ya?”