“There are lots of great works out there about that very thing,” I reply.
“Not as many as men with problems,” he fires back. “All you women read those books and pray to find a ‘fixer-upper’ who you can ‘heal’ when the reality is that most men don’t talk about their issues for a reason. It’s best to leave the past in the past rather than dig old shit up.”
Instantly, it hits me that he’s talking about more than just fictional characters. He never wants to talk about his family for a reason.
“That may work for a little while, but surely you don’t believe avoidance is the best way to handle problems.”
He shakes his head. “Of course I don’t think that. Sometimes an ass-kicking works just as well for people who have it coming.”
I sit up and face him. Now might be a good time to try and get him to open up to me. “You’re talking current events though. I’m talking more along the lines of old problems you can’t necessarily fight your way out of.”
He turns those intense blue eyes on me, and my heart races. “I know what you’re trying to do, Anna, but it’s not going to work.”
Busted.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Xavier shoves himself up and off the bed before walking toward his suitcase. He rifles through his clothes, pulling out a pair of jeans, socks, and a t-shirt.
Every time I feel like I’m starting to get somewhere, he shuts me down and runs away. “Where are you going? We’re talking.”
After he quickly dresses, he shoves his feet into his boots. “I’ve told you before, I don’t talk about my past.”
“Why?” I ask, confused and curious as to what could possibly be so bad that he won’t tell me anything about his past.
“My problems aren’t like one of your books, Anna. There’s no fucking formula to fix me. My shit—it’s fucking real. It’s not all in my head. The things I’ve lived through, the things I’ve done—” He cuts himself off and squeezes his eyes shut, like it pains him to even think about it. “I should be in prison right now, but instead, I’m sitting here with you. Don’t think for one second that I’m not a monster, because I am. I can’t change who or what I am. I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not a hero. I’m the fucking villain in this story.”
“That’s not what I’m not trying to do!” I argue, even though deep down I know he’s right. From the moment I met him, I have tried to size him up and justify my feelings for him.
“Yes, you are. You’ve got it into your head that I’ve got some redeemable quality that I just haven’t uncovered yet. Do you know how insane that sounds? I’m not like you, Anna. Growing up, I didn’t have the luxury of getting lost in some fictional world. I didn’t have time to have a fucking imagination, or dreams. All I worried about was staying alive and surviving—something you wouldn’t have the first clue about.”
“You think I’ve had it easy? My father hates me.” Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to allow them to fall. “Do you know what that’s like?”
Xavier runs his fingers through his hair and drops his head to stare at the floor for a moment before returning his icy blue stare to me. “More than you’ll ever know.”
The words bounce around in my brain, and they anger me. “And I’ll never know because you won’t tell me a damn thing about you. You give me bits and pieces, but you never tell me anything real. How am I supposed to be a friend and help you if you refuse to open up to me?”
“Don’t push this, Anna. Let it go.” He raises his voice, and I flinch.
I’m pissing him off? Well good, because I’m pissed off now too. “No!”
He narrows his eyes at me and grabs his keys off the table. “I don’t need this shit.”
He storms toward the door, running away yet again. But this time I’m not letting it go. “We aren’t done with this conversation.”
The muscle in his jaw works beneath his skin as he turns around to face me. “We are now.”
It takes every inch of my willpower not to reach out and grab his arm to force him to stay here with me and finish this.
“Where are you going?”
“Out,” is all he says, before turning back around and pushing through the door.
My body jerks when the door slams shut behind him, and I don’t even get so much as a second look.
If I keep pushing like this, I will lose him—I know that. But I also can’t have a friendship with someone who hides vital parts of themselves from me.
I flop back onto the bed and stare up at the white ceiling. I owe him an apology. I have no right to pry, forcing him to tell me things he doesn’t want to, but I’m greedy. I want all of him.
I lay awake staring at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It’s nearly two in the morning and Xavier still hasn’t come back yet.
This isn’t good.
He needs his rest. Tomorrow is Tuesday, and I know Tension is a live televised event and Xavier has a match. Being out like this won’t be good for his performance.
I pick up my phone, debating whether to call him or not when I notice a new text has arrived from Father. I clutch the phone to my chest. I’ve been avoiding him now for over a week, but he’s been relentless with his messages.
As always, my curiosity wins out. I raise the phone up and flick my finger across the screen. My breath catches. What I read is such a different tone than what I’d been receiving. Most of the week Father’s words have been angry and demeaning—pointing out all my faults, and telling me how leaving everything behind was a huge mistake. How I wasn’t being smart. How if I didn’t come back, I should forget I even have a family.
That one hurt the most.
It was the last one I read before this new one, which blows my mind.
Father: I need to know where you are and that you’re safe. At least give me that. I sigh as I read his words. He’s worried. I can tell. The least I can do is let him know where I am. I quickly tap out a message in reply.
I’m safe. I’m in Atlanta. Working for a wrestler who’s on TV.
It’s not an exact location, but it should be enough information to appease him. As hard as it may be to believe, I do love my father, but he’s too controlling and I need distance from him.
I’m my own person with my own will—desperate to make my own choices. And the choices will be mine, and I will be happy making the wrong ones because at least the mistakes will be my own.
Speaking of wrong choices, I need to talk to my ‘possible wrong decision’ and apologize. Make him come back and get some sleep.
I scroll down through my contacts and my thumb hovers over Xavier’s name just as the door opens and he creeps through the door. I squint, as the light from the hallway fills in around him.
The second the door closes, we’re wrapped in darkness. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but finally they do, and I see Xavier standing beside the bed, staring down at me frowning, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
He’s quiet for a few long, torturous seconds, but finally he sighs and sits on the bed. “I’m sorry I kept you awake.”
I sit up and reach for his hand. “Don’t. It’s me who should be apologizing. We’ve had this talk before and I know you don’t like to—”
Xavier presses his index finger to my lips. “I’ve had some time to think about all that. It’s not fair of me to blow up when you ask simple questions about my family. You’re curious about me, I get that. Maybe someday I’ll be able to talk about them, but right now, I just can’t. I hope you can understand that.”
I nod.
“There are things about me, Anna, that I don’t want anyone to know—especially not you. My family…they weren’t good people, but they were all I knew. I thought the things they did were normal for so long. It wasn’t until I met Nettie and Carl that I discovered differently. I don’t want you to pity me. That would kill me more than anything. I have to be strong. Don’t you see?”