He smiles with such resentment that my heart shrinks. I take a step closer. “Stop!” he orders.
I do as he says and wait for him. “So, you thought I was dying and that’s why you’re spewing stupid shit?”
“Time to check your vitals, Mr. Hardigan,” Gloria states, entering the room. “Your brothers left. They’ll be back later today. You never told me you had a handsome boyfriend.”
Zeke glances at me and releases a sharp laugh. It’s as sour as his previous words. “Oh, the irony.” He places his good arm on top of his chest and groans. “When can I go home?”
“As the doctor told you earlier today, you’ll be moved to a private room tomorrow after he makes his rounds. You were unconscious for almost three days. We want to keep you under observation before you leave,” she states as she takes his pulse. Once she’s done, she says, “You heal fast. Take advantage of your man and let him cuddle you for a few weeks before you start running.”
“Thank you, Gloria.” His forced friendly tone concerns me. This isn’t my Zeke. The guy would usually joke and be open with the staff.
As soon as the nurse leaves and the door closes, he asks, “My boyfriend?”
“Life partner,” I state proudly.
“Well, isn’t that rich?” He huffs. “What will the people say if they find out that the most eligible bachelor, Ethan Killion, has a male partner?”
“I don’t care.”
He closes his eyes. I hold my breath, waiting for him to speak, to acknowledge me, to yell at me. If we need to hash this out now, we’ll do it. It’s too soon, but we can discuss all my mistakes until he forgives me.
“Leave!” he commands. “I’m not in the mood to deal with you.”
“Z, you need me,” I say, looking at his frail body. I hadn’t noticed how much weight he’s lost. If I had watched him closer, I could’ve prevented this. Plus, I can’t lose him again. “Most of all, I need you.”
“Seventeen-year-old Zeke wants to believe you,” he snorts. “I know better. You’re never going to change. It’s in your making. First and foremost, you need the admiration of everyone. When I stepped into the rehab center, I thought maybe if I change, you’ll love me. Then, I remembered all the times you rejected me because everyone’s opinions mattered more than I did.
“Every time I think I’ve hit the lowest point in my life, you sink me deeper. Well, not you, but what I feel for you. I can’t go any lower or I’ll die. I need to deal with my life and my future. For some reason I don’t understand, I survived. If this isn’t a wake-up call, then what is it?”
“I want to be here for you,” I state.
“Don’t be a selfish prick!” His voice rises and it cracks when he says, “I don’t need you anymore. Maybe I never needed you.”
A sudden onslaught of emotions bounces around in my chest. What does he mean he doesn’t need me?
We need each other.
Being here isn’t a selfish act. Wanting to be by his side while he recovers is about him, not me. Isn’t it? There has to be something I’m not seeing. He has to understand that this is not about what others think. It’s all for him, for our love. Our future. There’s a future, right?
“Zeke—”
“It’s over. I’m done being in love with you,” he announces the same way anyone would announce the end of a long run show. “Unrequited love is like poison. It almost killed me. I want to live. This is a clean slate.”
He swallows hard. “My clean slate. My second chance. You’re not a part of it.”
His words sink like lead in my gut. An overwhelming blast of emotions threaten to overpower me.
This can’t be over.
We’ve got a chance, don’t we?
“Please, give me an opportunity,” I beg. “I’ll do anything you want me to do.”
“Leave,” the word rumbles out of his chest and bounces from wall to wall hitting me several times in the chest.
“You want me to come out publicly right now, I’ll do it. I’ll have everyone in the company release the news,” I offer. “Let me show you this isn’t just a five-minute lapse because I thought you died.”
“No,” he says with determination. “If I say yes and force you to come out, you’ll resent me tomorrow. You’re not ready to face your lies. I hope for your own good that one day you’re willing to come out for yourself, because you love yourself enough that you accept who you are.”
I feel dizzy by his words, his rejection, and my own emotions. “Z…” I refrain from saying anything more because I don’t have a comeback.
All our lives together I’ve been a coward. I don’t know if I love myself or if I accept myself. What’s he’s saying is…is it true?
I don’t matter at this point. This is about him. He can’t possibly want me to leave when he’s here. I can’t just go knowing he hurts.
“You need me,” I insist. “You’re in the hospital, in pain.”
“The pain in my soul never bothered you.” His words are like a blow to my heart. Of course I cared, didn’t I? “I can manage on my own, Ethan. It’s time I take charge of my life.”
What if I confess that it was never Tucker?
It’s always been him—my Zeke.
Is it worth it to put myself out there for him?
So far, he’s taking my feelings like punches to his soul. It’s tearing apart and opening a bigger gap between us.
What’s the point of baring my heart when he doesn’t care?
It might just piss him off even more—or break us more.
I fight against the grief, the sadness, and the pain that’s slamming against my body over and over like a wrecking ball trying to demolish me. I study him as my head tries to understand his reaction, his words, and the meaning of this moment. If I leave, I might lose him forever, but if I stay… There’s always a third option: What if I leave the door open? Maybe he’ll come to me when he’s ready.
“If you need me…” I don’t know how to finish that sentence.
“I’ll remind myself of all the times you dismissed me like a used pair of socks,” he ends the sentence. “Please stay the fuck away from me.”
I walk toward the door, wiggle the handle, and as I’m about to walk out, I say, “I’m sorry for everything I did to you.”
“You should try therapy. It might help you with the guilt, and also with your underlying issues.”
“I love you,” I mumble.
“I wish I could believe you,” he replies.
And maybe that’s the biggest issue. I’m trapped in a labyrinth of lies. Some days not even I can differentiate the truth from the lies.
Chapter Four
Zeke
There are certain scents that trigger some memories of my childhood, like antiseptic, needles, and IV bags. Flashbacks of a hospital bed, Mom laying on it, and the plastic tubes snaking along her thin arm cut me like razor-sharp knives. Reminders of what I never accomplished but she made me promise. Each and every mistake I’ve made in my life pulsates along with the guilt of trying to forget her and my pledge to be who she wanted me to be.