Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“There’s no such thing as a perfectionist,” I said. “No one does everything perfectly.”
“That’s not the way Derek views the world,” Jerome said. “The Odyssey really fucked him up.”
I knew that all too well. “Got any advice for me? How to handle him?”
Jerome shook his head. “No. I’d say leave him alone…and let him come out of his hole when he’s ready.”
“But he has classes to teach,” I said.
Pierre shrugged. “That’s the number one place where he won’t show his face. If he can’t build a successful rocket, what business does he have teaching the next generation of engineers? He’s way too harsh on himself, but that’s why he’s the best.”
He was way too hard on himself, and it was wrong. It made him unhappy, made him take unnecessary blame, made him have standards he couldn’t possibly meet. “Do they know anything about the rocket yet? Why it failed?”
“They’re still doing their investigation,” Jerome said. “But we’re eager to know that answer as well. Was it a design flaw or an installation flaw? It would make a huge difference for now. Maybe not for Derek because he considers himself solely responsible for everything that goes wrong.”
I wished he would get that out of his head. The Odyssey wasn’t his fault, and this probably wasn’t either.
“He’ll recover,” Jerome said. “It might take a while, but he will.”
He’d never really recovered from the Odyssey, so I wasn’t so sure about that.
I had dinner with Derek’s parents. It was just the three of us.
“He hasn’t been at work all week?” Cleo asked, the stress in all her features.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’ve texted him a couple times, but he doesn’t really say anything.”
“Same here,” Deacon said. “I went by his penthouse, but he wouldn’t answer the door.”
“Have you seen him?” Cleo asked.
I shook my head.
“Do we know anything about the rocket?” Deacon asked.
“The report came back, but I couldn’t understand it. I asked the guys at the lab, and they said it was undetermined at the moment.” I felt like I’d lost my best friend, and when Lizzie asked about him, I had to say he wanted to be alone…for over a week. I went to his class and told them that his classes were canceled for the rest of the semester since they only had a few weeks left. “I’m scared.”
Cleo stared at me.
“He pulled away because of the anniversary of his mother’s death, but he slowly came back to me. But this time, it’s different. This time, I’m afraid he won’t come back to me.” I wished Derek didn’t respond to trauma this way, pulling away from people instead of bringing them closer. I still didn’t really understand why behaved like that. He seemed to run from his problems, which was weird because he wasn’t a coward.
“He will,” Cleo whispered. “He just…likes to withdraw and feel nothing. That’s the only way he knows how to cope with these things. He started doing it as a child with his birth mom. It wasn’t this bad, but then…some other things happened.”
“He told me there’s this old friend he has to see with Ryan’s wedding festivities, and every time he comes home, he’s a different person. He’s angry and aggressive and just not himself. So, dealing with that, then his mother, and now this… I’m afraid it’s too much for him.” I was afraid I would lose the love of my life and watch him slip back into his old ways, refusing to feel after I’d worked so hard to get him to experience emotion once more.
“He’ll get through it,” Deacon said. “He’s a strong man…and he’s not going anywhere.”
27
Derek
I didn’t leave my penthouse for almost two weeks.
I dropped everything because I lost all my drive.
I lost all my belief in myself.
The report from the investigation came back, but the exact cause of the explosion was undetermined, and that made the situation worse. Not knowing was far worse than knowing it was all my fault.
I hadn’t shaved. I showered occasionally. I survived on my groceries and takeout. I ordered so many deliveries that the guys started to recognize my voice whenever I called to make an order.
Fucking pathetic.
But I didn’t want to see anybody. I didn’t want to hear that everything was fine when it wasn’t fine.
I got a text from Ryan. Hey, I know this is stupid, but you’re going to be there on Saturday, right? You should have gotten the invitation two weeks ago, and you haven’t RSVP’d.
I sighed and dragged my hands down my face. “Jesus fucking Christ…” I haven’t checked my mail. Yes, I’ll be there.
Cool. So, how did the rocket go?
It exploded.
Oh shit. You doing okay?
I stopped texting him back because the conversation was too much work. I sat there with my elbows on the table and stared at the other wall, my dining table empty of papers and calculations because I hadn’t done a single thing since that catastrophic day.