I wasn't going to let it end the same way.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice firm. “I'll be fine.”
Hador gave me a searching look, as if trying to decide whether or not I was posturing or actually confident. It was a bit of both, so I hoped he'd see whatever it was he was looking for. Finally, he nodded.
“If you need any help, Father O'Toole has my number.”
“Thanks.” I shook his hand again and watched as he left.
For a moment, I rested my forehead on the door, wondering if I'd made a huge mistake. After a minute, I headed upstairs. I couldn't go back into that room, not even to let X know where I'd be. If he needed something, he was definitely healthy enough to find me.
I needed to get out of my head, remind myself why I'd taken this job. When I officially started work on Monday, I needed to be clear-headed and unemotional. I had to be able to see the big picture in order to make a smart decision.
I took a shower, letting myself enjoy the multi-spray shower head as well as the vastly larger bathroom than I had back in Texas. I put on comfortable clothes and settled on the stylish sofa in my maybe-temporary living room and attempted to find something on tv to numb my mind. I already knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate on a book.
After an hour, I had to concede that I couldn't focus on tv either. I sighed as I turned it off. I had to get this shit out of my head or I'd never be able to sleep.
I needed to talk to somebody. It couldn't be either of my parents because they'd take it as a concession that I was wrong to move. I'd spend more time defending my motivations than I would actually assessing things logically. For years now, there had been one person who I'd gone to when I needed to talk, one person who I considered my closest friend.
Tanner.
I'd tried hard not to go to him, not to push the friendship we were able to end with. I didn't want to lose that, even if I didn't love him. Times like now were why.
I picked up my phone, hesitated for a moment longer, and then pulled up his number. The phone rang twice before he answered.
“Nori?”
“Hi.” I closed my eyes, a lump suddenly in my throat.
“Are you okay?”
He still knew me well enough to ask after I'd spoken only one word.
“Not really.” I felt the burn of tears against my eyelids. “I was wondering if you had some time to talk.”
“Of course.”
The kindness in his voice undid the last of my control and everything came pouring out. I told him about my parents and my job offer, about how I'd moved across the country to take care of a man I barely knew...but felt like I wanted to know more.
Except I didn't.
Maybe.
I didn't know anymore.
All of it came out in a rush, and he just listened at first. Let me get it all out.
When I finally fell silent, he spoke, “Babe, you know you could've come to me to talk this through before you left.”
I loved the fact that there was absolutely nothing sexual or condescending about anything he said. It was friendship and compassion, exactly what I needed right now. I felt some of the tension inside me start to ease.
“I thought I knew what I was doing,” I said. “But now...I don't know.”
“Why did you move?” he asked. “I know you gave me all of your reasons leading up to it, but if you had to choose one thing that would be your make-or-break reason for agreeing to fly to a city where you don't know anyone, and take a job within forty-eight hours of being offered it, what would it be?”
I made myself answer without thinking about it. “X.”
“The soldier.” It wasn't a question.
“I can't let him...” My voice cracked. “He's just so broken, Tanner. I can't...”
“I know.” His voice was soft. “I know.”
I brushed at my cheeks. He did know. He completely understood what I meant without me having to say all of it.
“If you came home, what wouldn't you be able to live with?” he asked.
“If something happened to him,” I said without having to think about it.
“Can you live with what will happen if you stay?”
I didn't answer this one right away. I had to think about it. Think about whether or not I could handle living here, doing work that I hadn't done before. Putting up with the shit I knew X would throw my way.
Could I live with those things?
If they meant I never had to live with X hurting himself, then yes, I could.
“Yes,” I said finally, my voice soft.
“Then you know what you're supposed to do.”
We exchanged a few more words, mostly pleasantries that proved we still cared about each other, and then ended the call. I set my phone aside and sat for a few minutes in the silence. I didn't know if Father O'Toole was still here or if X was awake, but this floor – my floor – was quiet. I let myself soak it in, all of it.