“Honestly, I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’ve been zoning out.”
“Can you pause it, please?” he asked lightly.
I did, suddenly feeling nervous. My own anxiety monster’s long shadowy fingers were creeping down my shoulders.
Luke sat on the couch next to me, the leather making a soft noise as it shifted.
“How is she?” I asked.
“She’s… okay,” he said with his head in his hands.
I wanted more than anything in that moment to reach out and touch him; caress his back. There was a part of me that knew if I touched him, I could discharge his fear somehow. Like it was static on his skin, and the shock of touching him would dispel it.
But I stayed in place.
“She doesn’t want me to fly out and visit her,” he said. “She said that she forgot her medication that day and that she thought it would be fine. That it makes her feel… sorta numb.”
I nodded, unsure of what to say.
“I couldn’t fault her for that — I never took Xanax, because I didn’t like the way they made me feel.”
A long silence stretched between us, and I wondered if somehow he was thinking of breaking up with me.
“I’m not happy that you kept that from me,” he said sternly. “I need you to talk to me, Adam. I feel so far away from you lately like you’re a stranger living in the same house.”
My anxiety monster made of my own shadow rotated its fingers so they were around my throat. I could feel pressure constricting my voice.
“I want to feel close again, but I don’t know how to make that happen,” he said, sweeping his thin palm over his face. “I need you to tell me things.”
I looked down sadly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you immediately.”
But it felt like he wanted me to apologize for more than that. I was sorry for a lot of things — for making him worry all the time, for keeping something from him. I wanted to keep him safe, and the only way to do that was to isolate him from the rest of my life.
The problem was, the rest of my life outside of this house was taking up more and more real estate in my head. Despite my efforts, it was starting to bleed into my life with Luke here. My thoughts would wait until he fell asleep, or when he was on the bed phone loafing, and then they would be attacking that case I was working on again. I couldn’t help it; I wanted nothing more than to catch the serial killer. And I couldn’t stop my mind from obsessing over every last detail of this case, trying to find a flaw in the logic of events that might lead to more clues.
That stud. That damn shining stud had been on my mind for the past few days like it was a magnet for my thoughts.
“Adam? Are you still with me?” Luke asked, his face full of sadness.
“Yes, I’m here,” I said with a grunt, readjusting my posture.
“You can trust me,” he said. “I want to know what’s going on in that head of yours.”
“Now you sound like Claire,” I said gruffly.
To my delight, Luke chuckled and grabbed my hand. “I just want you to know that you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, and I’m sorry if sometimes I lose my temper. I’m working on getting better about it — I want to be a better partner to you. And I don’t want to bleed all over you with all of my problems, either.”
I frowned slightly, unable to keep my mind from conjuring up the image of Luke covered in blood.
My throat got tighter, and my hand crept towards his.
“Thank you, Luke,” I said softly. It was the only volume my throat would allow.
Luke smiled, and for a moment, I thought that everything between us might be okay.
Luke would continue to see Dr. Brinkman, and we would work out the kinks in our relationship. We’d grow together instead of growing apart.
“Do you think these issues we’ve been having are just growing pains?” I asked, feeling extremely vulnerable as the question escaped my lips.
But I needed to hear his answer — I needed it more than I needed air to breathe.
“Absolutely,” Luke nodded, squeezing my hand in his. “I mean, we’re in a new city. We’re still getting used to our surroundings. It’s cold outside all the time, and you’re working on intense things at your job. It would be enough to create tension in even the most perfect relationship, like ours.”
I smiled at that, feeling the anxiety monster loosen its grip around my neck. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that.
Luke leaned forward and kissed me, pressing his thick lips to mine.
I savored his gentle touch, the kiss communicating everything underneath the surface that wasn’t being said:
I want you. I need you. I trust you. I love you.
When he pulled away, his eyelids fluttered like he was an addict that had just gotten a hit of a drug he’d been craving.
He leaned into me, pressing his body on top of mine.
I wrapped my arms around him, and he just rested there, on my chest.
For the first time in weeks, I was truly happy. I loved the feeling of Luke's weight pressed onto me. And holding him like this made me feel fulfilled in the way I needed — like I was protecting him.
“I love you so much, Adam. Even if we fight, I needed you to know that.”
I felt relief course through me. I hadn’t realized how much that simple fact — that Luke really loved me had been thrown into doubt by the recent events.
How can there be love with no trust? My mom had once read me from a passage of Greek mythology as a kid.
My eyes snapped all the way open. Why was that popping into my mind at this second? It was like my brain was sweeping it off
