Unwanted (The Unlucky Ones, #1)

by Marley Valentine

As I went through rehab and my recovery steps, he was the one person I chose not to make amends with. Because the heartache and hurt between us was too much to deal with.

Time promised to heal wounds, but when it came to Frankie, the more time that passed, the deeper the hurt ran. I may have learned to rise above rock bottom, but I was yet to rise above and forgive Frankie York. What was worse is, I was certain I hadn’t yet learned how to unlove him either.

He just continues to stare at me, his hazel-colored eyes full of longing. Full of yearning. Full of desire. For me.

It hits me harder and cuts me deeper than any indifference and disappointment ever could. Because he’s looking at me the way he always has. Like time hasn’t passed. Like nothing has changed. Like he needs me. Like he loves me.

He may be a different man, and I know there’s more than just a black cloud hanging over us, but he’s still familiar. He’s still safe. He’s still my home.

It’s always been an unspoken rule: you are who you are and you love who you love; you never need to explain that.

Whether I liked to admit it or not, he’d always been my other half in every way.

Now, with every part of me touching him, I was certain it didn’t matter who it was or what gender they identified as, I would never be able to see anyone but him.

My sobriety was mine, and even though, more often than not, I hated myself, I still allowed myself to be proud of the fact that I was here. I was sober. And I was alive.

“So,” I start, as we enter the hospital elevator. “Lennox, the guy that had the football accident, is deaf.” “Oh, that’s okay, I know sign language.” I tilt my head at him, impressed. “He’s deaf because of the injury,” I clarify. “But maybe, when he’s settled at home and if he wants to learn, you could teach us all a few signs?”

When we were younger, we would always come back home having taken a bite from a slice of pizza in each box before everybody else could get to it. It started out innocently enough, one of us really hungry one night and we couldn’t wait to make it back home to eat. But when we noticed how much it irritated Clem, Remy, and Lennox we continued to do it every time we ordered pizza. It was stupid and juvenile, but it was familiar. And it was us.

“The time to talk about this has well and truly come and gone. Four years too late, to be exact.” He straightens his hands on my chest and steps back, his demeanor changing entirely. “So, I’ll try one more time and ask you if we can just let sleeping dogs lie. Please?”

To have boundaries and to be able to communicate healthily. I need to respect that, no matter what my selfish needs are. Because this is what I wanted for him, isn’t it? To love and care about himself and life enough to want to actually live it. To know that he is strong enough to protect his sobriety. To see that his sobriety was even a priority warmed me up from the inside out. Even if, in this moment, it was at my expense, I could empathize.

We stand there, breaths matching, eyes not blinking, both of us refusing to answer the question. Because admitting that both our lives flourished when we were apart is a hard pill to swallow.

I was aching in his presence.

He stops when he reaches my ear and whispers, “Leaving you broke my heart.”

All I had was this. A kiss for a kiss. A touch for a touch.

A heartbeat for a heartbeat.

“It didn’t matter if I took everything or nothing with me to Seattle. No place has ever or will ever feel like home without you.”

“I love your broken.” He rubs his thumb over my lips and kisses me gently. “I love your wronged.” He kisses me again, this time a little firmer. “And I love your selfish.”

“I love you, Arlo. Every part of you. The things you love about yourself and especially the things you hate. I love them all.”

“You taught me how to love,” he exclaims. “Before you, I didn’t know what it was like to be loved, let alone to love someone in return. I love you, Frankie York. I always have and I always will.”

We had been to hell and back, separately and together, but I would do it all over again if it meant we would always end up right here.

“Did you really think I could walk away from you twice?” “Did you really think I was going to let you walk away twice?” “You would’ve come to Seattle?” “I’ve learned from my mistakes, Frankie. And I would follow you anywhere.”