Page 97 of Existential

“When are they back?” I hang my head as I ask the question, unable to look Beth in the eye in case she can read my intentions clear as day.

“Crackers said at least three days.”

Plenty of time to get distance between us before he even realizes I’m missing. A small pang of regret grows in my gut at the thought of cutting and running, but surely he’ll understand? He’s blinded by his fantasy of what he thinks we have, when I’m around. Maybe if I go, maybe these days on the road away from me, will show him that he doesn’t need me after all.

Hooch isn’t the man who came looking for solace in the laundry room anymore. He hasn’t said a thing about stepping down since he got back to Fort Worth—if anything, he dove in to the role deeper. He’s got everything he needs to get better here already. He doesn’t need me anymore.

Everybody comes into your life for a reason, and maybe, just maybe, this is my sign that our time for each other has passed.

Neither of us needs somebody else to hold up us like we thought we did. Both of us are stronger than we realized. Two independent souls who simply needed to meet another the same, to see what was right in front of us the whole time.

That some people are destined to walk alone, whether they like it or not.