“Let’s be honest, Reed. That was me last night. The real me. I’ve been able to hide that behavior from you since we met. But that’s who I am. I have all this chaos, this… this uproar inside me. Sometimes I lose control of it, and I lash out. It’s always going to be something that happens, and when it does, anyone around is going to feel it, even if they have nothing to do with whatever triggered it.” He pauses for a second and then continues. “It’s not fair to ask you to be around that kind of behavior. It’s embarrassing, and if I do it in the wrong setting or in front of the wrong person, it could even be dangerous. I won’t put you in that position.”
“Dylan, that’s ridiculous. Why on earth would I ever hold that against you? You said these meltdowns are common in people with autism, right? So that means it’s not you at all. It’s part of the condition. It’s like… I don’t know… like a diabetic passing out from low blood sugar. You do your best to avoid it, but it’s going to happen sometimes, despite all your best efforts.”
“Reed, it’s better if you leave now.” His voice is like a scythe slicing me open.
“What?” I’m in shock.
“You need to leave. We’re done here.”
My heart races as I process his words. “Dylan, what are you talking about? What do you mean ‘we’re done here.’ I know it’s hard for you to talk about, but we have to—”
“We donothave to talk about anything,” he says through gritted teeth. He’s started to run his fingers through his hair and pull on it. I’m guessing that’s a sign he’s starting to get overloaded.
Working to keep my voice calm, I take another deep breath. Pushing him right now isn’t going to accomplish anything other than upsetting both of us.
“Okay, Dyl, look. I’m not going to force you to talk about this right now. I think we’re both still feeling… a little off-balance. I understand you need space, so I’ll give it to you. But I…” I clear my throat. “I’m not giving up on you. I won’t let you push me away.”
He doesn’t respond, just looks at me sullenly as I walk out of the kitchen to the guest room. I throw on the clothes I was wearing yesterday, and when I get back, he’s fussing with something at the sink, his back to me.
“I’m going to head out, Dylan. Are you going to be okay here alone?” As soon as those words leave my mouth, I know I’ve said the wrong thing. It probably sounds like I don’t think he should be by himself, like he needs some kind of babysitter to take care of him.Shit.His whole body stiffens as he slowly turns toward me. His empty expression from earlier has been replaced by anger, and I’m afraid I may have just fucked everything up beyond repair.
“Reed, you need to get the hell out of my house.”
I desperately want to respond, to explain that’s not what I meant, but my own temper is starting to burn hot, so I force myself to nod, walk to the door, slip on my shoes, and leave.
The entire drive home, I argue with myself about what to do. Maybe I should walk away. He’s clearly trying to push me—maybe I should just let him. If this is what being in a relationship is like, maybe I don’t want any part of it. I’ve got more than enough stress to deal with at work, thank you very much. I don’t need this.
But then I think about not spending time with Dylan anymore, and my stomach lurches. In a very short time, he’s become a huge part of my world, and I genuinely love being together. I love never having to guess what he’s thinking. He tells me. Just knowing that he won’t bullshit me or lie gives me a huge sense of security. I trust Dylan more than I trust almost anyone in the world.
And then it hits me full force, like a semi crashing into a brick wall. I’m in love with him. It’s clear as day to me now. I love him. I should have realized it last night when I saw him flipping out and the only thing I felt was fear and pain for him. There was no shame, no embarrassment. Even my urge to help him didn’t come from the “Doctors Help People” part of me—it came from somewhere deeper. Not from my brain but from my heart.
Oh my god. What the fuck am I going to do now? The feeling is terrifying, but what scares me more is that this might be over before it’s even begun. Before I even realized how important he is to me. I don’t want to give up on him, on us—whatever “us” is. I refuse to give up.
I’ve spent most of my life making sure I always have an escape hatch to get out of almost any situation or relationship because I can’t trust anyone to stick around and actually care. Other than Case, not one person in my life has cared enough to ever stick around if things got hard or uncomfortable. It didn’t take me long to figure out that not getting attached was a much safer bet. But I don’t even want an escape route this time. Iwantto be committed to Dylan. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, but I refuse to let him push us apart when I know deep in my bones we belong together.
Chapter 27
DYLAN
AfterReedleavesonFriday morning, I pull back into my own private world. Cocooning at home, I do my best to think only about what I need in the moment, paying close attention to all the signals my brain and my body send me. I eat when I’m hungry, I sleep when I’m tired, and I spend “work” time outside doing various projects I’ve wanted to get done but kept putting off. Without even trying, I slip back into my typical schedule. Hanging out with my animals and doing lots of heavy, physical work, even in the cold, rainy weather, is exactly what I need to reset and clear my head.
By Sunday afternoon, I’m feeling back to myself and ready to re-enter the world, and I finally allow myself to think about Reed and what happened the morning after Thanksgiving.
I feel terrible about my behavior—and I don’t mean the meltdown. By the next morning, I was well enough that I could have explained to him that I would need a few days before being ready to discuss what happened, that I always need a few days to regroup. I’m sure after we spent half the night cuddled together in bed, he assumed we would talk about it in the morning. He couldn’t have known I needed more time. The signals I sent him were completely mixed up. I let my shame and lack of self-confidence take over, and it only resulted in hurting him.
I know I need to talk to him, but I’m nervous as fuck to call or text him. I am fucking terrified he’s going to tell me to fuck right off. I was such an asshole; I could hardly blame him. He hasn’t reached out to me either. Maybe that means he’s just done.
I make up my mind to contact him tomorrow. I need to get work done on his house, regardless of what’s going on in our personal relationship. I need to figure out what I’m going to say, how I’m going to explain my actions. I don’t know whether to tell him what I’m feeling, whether to tell him I’ve fallen in love with him. On one hand, I want him to know, but on the other hand is the fact that if he rejects me, I don’t know how I’ll handle it. I’m sensitive to rejection at the best of times, and the stakes this time feel much higher.
I’m just finishing up with some barn chores when my phone buzzes with a text from Grace.
Grace: Hey big brother. Are you free for drinks tonight? I want the four of us to get together after the fucking disaster that was Thanksgiving.
Dylan: Yeah, I’m free.
Grace: Meet at the new wine bar on Central? 7 ish?
Dylan: Okay, see you soon.