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“One of these days you’re going to fall in love, son. Don’t settle for just anyone. Choose the girl that doesn’t come easy, the one you have to fight for, and then never stop fighting. Never”—she took a deep breath—“stop fighting for what you want. And never”—her eyebrows pulled in—“forget that Mommy loves you. Even if you can’t see me.” A tear fell down her cheek. “I will always, always love you.”
I decided a long time ago I would feed on the vultures until a dove came along. A pigeon. The kind of soul that didn’t impede on anyone; just walked around worrying about its own business, trying to get through life without pulling everyone else down with its own needs and selfish habits. Brave. A communicator. Intelligent. Beautiful. Soft-spoken. A creature that mates for life. Unattainable until she has a reason to trust you.
“I should say no to prove a point,” I said, my eyebrows pulling together. “But I would hate myself later if I said no and you never asked me again.”
“You don’t need an excuse, Pigeon. All you have to do is ask.”
“I don’t want to date her; I just want to be around her.
“I don’t know. Everything’s better when you’re around.”
“Don’t drive drunk on your bike anymore, okay?”
“In another life, I could love you.” I watched her for a moment, staring into her glassed-over eyes. She was drunk, but just for a moment it didn’t seem wrong to pretend that she meant it. “I might love you in this one.”
Sometime between the moment we met, and holding her on that bathroom floor, I had fallen in love with her.
“You didn’t have to sleep on the bathroom floor.” “Last night was one of the best nights of my life.”
“Trav? Are you okay?” It took me a while to form the words. “I’ve never been less okay in my life.”
“I know we’re fucked up, all right? I’m impulsive and hot tempered, and you get under my skin like no one else. You act like you hate me one minute, and then you need me the next. I never get anything right, and I don’t deserve you . . . but I fucking love you, Abby. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone or anything, ever. When you’re around, I don’t need booze or money or the fighting or the one-night stands . . . all I need is you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I dream about. You’re all I want.”
“I can’t see you at all, actually. I’m . . . pretty sure I’m in love with Travis.”
“Well, I belong to you!” I screamed. I put so much force behind my words, I could feel all the blood rush to my face. Abby met my glare, refusing to even flinch. I looked at her lips, panting. “I belong to you,” I whispered, my anger fading as desire took over.
