all american | lance tucker

ch. 47 • aftermath

He had to spend three days in that hospital. I had to go home at the end of the first day, spent the entire second day/night, then came back at the end of the third day to bring him home after he had been cleared by his doctor. The entire car ride home was silent. I was just so angry. He was irresponsible, self-destructive, and selfish.

"Cara, you can't just ignore me." He sighed. He was sitting in the passenger seat of my car, head leaned against the window and looking over at me. His arms were crossed and his legs were shoved into the limited space under the glovebox. If I weren't so pissed, I would've laughed at him.

"I just-" I struggled for the words, gripping my steering wheel tightly. "I just can't believe you, Lance. I mean, what the fuck were you thinking?"

"I thought I was okay to drive. The road curved a little faster than I thought it was going to and I hit a tree. I'm sorry."

"No. You know what? I just...I just can't right now, okay?" I gritted my teeth, shaking my head. "God. The kids think you're at work right now. They're going to be excited when you show up."

"Oh god. They're going to ask about the bruises."

"Yep. And you get to tell them why they're there." I said emotionlessly. And that was it. We got home, brought his bags inside, said hi to the kids (and said bye to Cali, who was watching them) and then I went into our room, shutting the door and locking it. I couldn't deal with him right now.

Tears were forming in my eyes and for a second, I just let myself break as I sat alone, crying. It was things like this that made me just about regret all of this. Everything I had. Maybe moving in with Lance back then was a bad idea. Nothing but bad things happened around Lance. I mean, I loved him, and he made me happy, but at what cost? He was toxic, and he brought his toxicity into everyone else's lives. Fuck. I wasn't supposed to be thinking this. This was my fiancé I was talking about.

I looked down at the ring on my finger. And then took it off. I set it gently on my nightstand, rubbing my finger where it had been for the past couple months. Right now, I couldn't even imagine being married to Lance.

"Cara?" Lance's voice interrupted my thoughts. I ignored him though, looking at the door. "Cara, unlock the door."

"Fuck off, cokehead." I was speaking without thinking, but I was satisfied with my words. I heard him chuckle behind the door.

"Cokehead? Seriously?" I could picture him standing with his head against the door, hand on the doorknob.

"Can you just leave me alone for like three seconds, Lance? I've had to sit with your sorry ass in a hospital room for the past three days. I'm kind of sick of you." I muttered, rubbing my temples. Not in the mood to deal with his shit.

"Let me explain myself." It was more of a demand than a request.

"You can explain yourself from there, don't you think?" I mumbled. I crawled under the blankets, securing myself in bed so that I wouldn't get up and let him in. He sighed audibly, but I could tell I had won.

"I didn't lie when I said I was at a party. It was offered as a party favor, and I knew I should've said no but I didn't. And I know that's on me."

"Do you even take tolerance breaks so that you don't become a cokehead anymore?" This was extremely worrying to me. My biggest fear was that he'd get seriously addicted.

"Do you see me walking around the house just jonesing for a blow?" He asked sarcastically. "Yes, I take tolerance breaks."

"You have no idea how pissed at you I am." I mumbled, closing my eyes. Driving back and forth to Philly had exhausted me, let alone dealing with Lance's shit.