My heart is sitting weighted in my gut, like a bowling ball. I watch Jesse’s eyes water as he reaches onto the floor, gathering his boxers and stepping into them fast.

“Well, then I guess it doesn’t fucking matter, does it?” He storms past me, and I’m dying.

I need to call after him. I need to tell him I’m sorry, and that I do love him… even if it doesn’t make sense.

But I can’t.

I don’t want to lose my son, and I don’t want to lose this new love before I even get to truly experience it…

But I just know I’ll end up losing both.

I have to get out of here.

Just hiding out in my bedroom isn’t cutting it anymore. I need to leave.

I need space and I need to figure out what the fuck I’m doing.

For some reason, the last two days have flipped a switch, and things I’ve been wanting, craving for years, have come to fruition.

But it’s not glamorous. It’s not happy and sexy and exciting anymore, like it was only a couple of hours ago. Now it’s damaging, and painful. It hurts.

My heart feels like too much for my chest, and my stomach is in knots as I get dressed in jeans and a pullover. I texted Tanner, asking if he wanted to meet up… and I don’t know why.

I don’t want to see him. I don’t want any of the mildly entertaining things we’ve done together, in secret, of course, because no one can ever love me out in the open, apparently. I’m nothing but a dirty tryst, to everyone, and I can’t fucking take it anymore.

But I don’t know where else to go. All my other friends are busy with their families or their relationships. The only person who’s been consistently texting me is Tanner. Because he wants to get his dick wet.

I understand that. I know he’s using me, but at this point, I’d rather be used by some dumb jock who means almost nothing to me than the man I live with… The man I’m hopelessly in love with, who can never give me back what I’m desperate to give him.

So I rush downstairs and step into my boots, praying James won’t notice as I shrug into my coat and grab my car keys. He’s probably off in some corner of the house, hiding from me anyway.

Whipping open the front door, I step out into the frigid air, trekking down the snowy steps as wind pelts sleet at my face. It’s afternoon, but somehow dark from the weather, the skies gray and rippling with cold, icy condensation. I stomp the walkway as fast as I can while still trying to be careful, not wanting to slip and fall. James put salt down everywhere yesterday to combat the ice forming, but it’s still there.

Jumping into my car quickly, I start the engine and it roars to life. I have an STI, a little beast of a sedan in cobalt blue that James got me last year for my birthday. It’s fully loaded and pretty much the most badass thing ever, though right now I can’t appreciate any of that. I’m too focused on getting the fuck out of here. Escaping the bullshit piling high in my life to the point of suffocation.