23. not broken

Chase

Bailey curled up against my chest as we lay in my bed, watching an NHL game. We chatted idly, only half following the game as neither of us was particularly invested in the teams playing. As far as a weekday evening went, it was pretty perfect. Except for one thing: the conversation we needed to have.

The sure to be difficult, guaranteed to be uncomfortable, hopefully not disastrous conversation.

Maybe it was too soon to talk about this, but it would weigh on my conscience until we did. And I refused to do it the night we went out for dinner, potentially fucking up her birthday twice in one year.

The whole situation made me furious. I literally treated one-night stands and casual hookups better than Morrison had treated his own girlfriend. It was wrong on every level.

Here goes nothing.

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