High Maintenance (9 page)

He turned forward again and dug aggressively into his eggs. Nathan had that stereotypical temper of a head chef, but he never displayed it at work, and thankfully kept it under control around me. He’d had his share of trips to the principal’s office and wasn’t a stranger to a bar fight. But since we’d known each other, he’d only had a few setbacks. “You know I hate it when you’re not being safe.”

“Hey, we used protection.” I smirked, trying to win his mood back. I tilted my head in his direction only to find the opposite expression on his face.

His fork clanked onto his plate. “You know what I meant.” He kicked his chair back, getting up at the same time. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Gray.” He wandered toward the door.

I followed behind him. “Hey, wait. Don’t go.” My blood started to heat at the thought of him trying to leave, holding his presence hostage for my behavior. That wasn’t what we did.

He halted in his tracks, still facing the door. I had no idea what words he’d say when he turned around. Four years of this shit between us. If we were too broken to have real relationships with other people, how could we possibly have thought we could maintain one between us? No matter what
this
was. Yet through it all, Nathan and I had always clung to each other like life preservers.

He turned halfway around and shot me a sad, helpless look. “Have you ever heard the word ‘enabler’?”

My gut wrenched in a too familiar way. “So, that’s what you are to me?” I said, growing angry as I spoke.

“That’s what we both are, Gray. Any shrink could tell you that.”

“What are you saying exactly?”

He turned the rest of the way around, reached out and grabbed my hand, softening my temper. “I’m saying that I can’t watch you do this to yourself any longer.”

“And your life is so freaking normal?” I pulled my hand from his, looking away toward the window. “It’s no picnic for me either.” Though if I was being honest, this had been becoming more one-sided lately. Nathan’s family had all but disappeared into background noise, and the lingering effects had been miniscule.

Hands grasped my shoulders, shaking me and my attention back to him, our eyes falling into a desperate connection. “Maybe we’re just…bad for each other.”

Tears welled in my eyes, my heart ached, and my chin dropped. He gripped me tighter, knowing how I hated to be seen like that, knowing I’d pull away, try to hide. I wanted to tell him we weren’t bad for each other, or at least he wasn’t for me. I wanted to say that without him in my life I wouldn’t survive. But I couldn’t utter a single word.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He released one hand and cupped the back of my head, pulling it into his chest. “We’ve been
friends
,” he whispered. “We’ve been…whatever the hell this is.” He paused. “But there’s one thing we haven’t been.”

My head started tiny involuntary shakes into his chest before his other arm came around to my back. He laid his palm flat and gentle and then rubbed up and down. “Don’t shake your head. Don’t start thinking like that. We could try. I’m willing to try if you are.”

I curled my lips under my teeth to stop myself from spitting out a response. To stop before a lie hurt him even more. Even if I owned the truth, words still failed to come out.

My silence told him I was fighting tears. “I mean, who knows, we could end up being like one of those sitcom couples, laughing and playing stupid tricks on each other.” His futile attempts to make me laugh still touched me. “Gray,” he said, grabbing my face and pulling it up to him. “Say something.”

“We…can’t.
I
…can’t.”

Defeated, his eyes closed; his hands fell to his sides. “Right.”

He turned and reached for the door, pulling the handle.

“Wait,” I said, stopping him. “What about us now? I mean…that’s it. We’re alone now?” Panic rose in my chest.

“I’ll never leave you alone, Gray. You can count on that.”

Bestselling author, Lia Fairchild, is both a traditionally published and independent author who writes women's fiction, romance, and chick lit. Fans of her books praise her endearing, real characters that come to life in stories that will touch your heart.

Fairchild is addicted to the warmth of Southern California and holds a bachelor's degree in journalism and a multiple-subject teaching credential. She is a wife and mother of two teenagers.

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