Page 118 of Truck Up
I shake my head. “But I really want to. The craving is worse than ever.”
“Tell me what happened.” Her words are simple and express concern, but they’re also spoken with affectionate authority. She’s good at that, and it always gets me to talk.
“Amelia’s mad at me.” Just saying the words has me squirming in my seat. “She’s staying with a friend.”
My elbows dig into my knees, my head bowed in defeat. My fingers tangle in my hair, pulling at the roots, a desperate attempt to release the tension that’s building inside me.
I’m a coiled spring, ready to snap, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I started pulling out clumps of hair in my frustration. The thought of that, of the damage I might inflict on myself in this state, is enough to make me loosen my grip, a wave of self-preservation washing over me.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dr. Johnson says. Then she pauses.
Her silence is a gentle push to get me to continue, but the words are caught in my throat. I desperately need to unravel these tangled emotions, to pour them out, but the fear of saying the wrong thing, of stumbling over my own pain, paralyzes me. In these moments, I feel like a child, frustrated and helpless, unable to articulate the storm raging inside me.
She must sense my struggle. “Start at the beginning. What did you do that upset Amelia?”
I take a deep breath before I let the words out. “I bet our relationship on a game of poker.”
She furrows her brows. “I’m going to need a bit more information.”
“Linden, her oldest brother, goaded me into a game of poker. If he won, I would break up with Amelia. If I won, I got to keep her.”
Dr. Johnson closes her eyes and gives me the slightest shake of her head. “I can see why that wouldn’t turn out well.”
“We didn’t get to finish. Amelia showed up and broke up the game.” I stare at Dr. Johnson, waiting for her reaction, but I don’t get one. “I would’ve won. Linden can’t beat me.”
“You realize that’s not the point, right?” she asks.
“Winning is always the point. I wouldn’t have made the bet if I didn’t know I could win.”
“Christian.” There’s a reprimanding tone to the way she says my name. “There are no winners in a situation like that. Everyone loses, especially Amelia.”
“Someone always wins,” I say with every ounce of conviction I can muster, even though I know there’s truth to what she said. Making that bet with Linden was stupid, and I know it. But, like a dumbass, I still feel the need to defend my actions.
“You’re smarter than that.” The firm tone of her words causes me to sit up straight. When I look her in the eyes, I see something far worse than concern or pity or anger. She’s disappointed in me.
Hell, I’m disappointed in myself. I know better than to let the Koch brothers get to me. Engaging with them like that will never work out. It’s exactly what Linden wanted. He’s her brother. Family. She will forgive him one day.
But what am I? I’m just the loser, former addict, who knocked her up. Even if she forgives me, that doesn’t mean she’ll stay with me. She doesn’t need to be with me to raise this kid. She doesn’t need me for anything.
Amelia possesses a strength that transcends the physical. It’s a force of will, an indomitable spirit that can weather any storm. No matter how hard the world tries to knock her down, to break her, she will rise again, stronger, more defiant than ever before.
“Christian.” Dr. Johnson probes. Her tone is much gentler now. “What are you thinking?”
“Amelia doesn’t need me,” I say without giving myself a chance to filter my thoughts. As much as I hate saying the words out loud, they’re true.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she says. “You’re about to become parents. She needs your help with that.”
I shake my head. “Her strength is unparalleled. She can do it without me.”
“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need you.” She reassures me. “Parenting is hard. Having two parents makes it so much easier for everyone. Including the child. Trust me when I say she needs you. Don’t give up on yourself.”
“But what if she gives up on me?” I whisper, the fear an icy knot in my stomach. It’s my worst nightmare—the image of Amelia waking up one day, finally seeing me for what I truly am—damaged, broken, unworthy of her love. The family feud is just one obstacle, a minor inconvenience compared to the internal storm raging within me. Everything about me, from my demons to my self-destructive tendencies, makes me a difficult man to love.
“It takes two people to make a relationship work,” she says. “It also takes two people to make a relationship fail. The two of you are in this together.”
“That’s only further proof that I’m doomed. All I do is screw up.”
She sighs and laces her fingers together on her lap. “Let me ask you a question. How long have the two of you been dating?”